


Enamored

by foryouandbits



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (Parse does not actually appear in this fic), Alternate Universe - Medieval, Concubines, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Injury, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, M/M, Past Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Pregnancy, Producing an Heir, Shitty's Real Name, Substance Abuse, Swordfighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 58,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryouandbits/pseuds/foryouandbits
Summary: Following a crippling injury, Sir Jack of Samwell has been dismissed from the Knights of the High Court. Six months later, he learns of a position within Bittle Castle: King Eric, despite his recent wedding to Princess Larissa of Boston, wishes to hire a concubine to his court. Jack, unable to find employment due to his injury, decides to apply for the position. He uncovers more than he expected upon meeting the king, and begins a new life seeking to please his liege in any way possible.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight
Comments: 114
Kudos: 126





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that the tag of "violence" can be a little misleading, so I just wanted to stick a note here at the beginning. This is medieval times and Jack is a former knight who knows how to use a sword - sword fighting will lead to gruesome death. I don't go into extreme detail but there's definitely some death, dismemberment, and blood. I'll stick a note at the beginning of each chapter in regards to it so you know ahead of time. 
> 
> Also there's a fight and a bunch of violence in this prologue here.

'Twas a beautiful day in the Kingdom of Samwell, cool and crisp, hinting at the arrival of winter. Sir Jack, faithful Knight of the High Court, longed for the rest that winter provided. It had been a long year with many missions: deliver messages to nearby Faber, Founders, and Commons; escort the nobility hither and thither; rid the valley of the brigands who threatened travelers on the main roads; and slay the dragon that lay scourge to the cranberry fields. Sir Jack was tired, and wished to finish the year in his home, near a fire and a good book.

He'd been promised reprieve after this final mission. Snow had fallen twice thus far and while the roads were clear and easy to navigate, the blizzards of the Northeast loomed nigh. Soon no one would be traveling. Brigands and thieves would be held up in their hiding places, guarding their stolen wares and longing for the warmth of an honest life. Sir Jack hoped there was not some urgent message that required deliverance once the true snows began.

The message had been delivered, one that Sir Jack felt honored to bear, even if it had been handed over by his superior Sir Murray. The King of Samwell, Eric the First, wished to formally propose marriage to Larissa, the Princess of Boston, as a means to ally the kingdoms once and for all. It was a union long in the making. Sir Jack had stood in the royal hall at Boston as the king and queen opened their arms and gave their hearty consent to such a match. The princess was there as well, smiling widely and accepting her mother's embraces. She seemed overjoyed, which made Jack overjoyed to return home with such great news.

They neared the city of Bittle, just a half day's ride until they reached the capital. Sir Jack would sleep in his own bed that night, which delighted him greatly. The journey from Boston to Samwell was long and arduous. The company of five knights slept in thin tents or on the ground itself. The singular evening at the castle in Boston did not make up for fourteen evenings in the cold. Yes, a rest for the winter was welcome indeed.

The five knights were silent as they continued down the main road, the castle visible in the far distance. It was a clear day, the sky blue and cloudless. The sun staved off the cold that bit during the night, making the ride pleasant. Sir Jack could smell the refreshing scent of the coming winter in the air. He breathed in deeply, enjoying it, until a woman's scream roused his attention.

He looked to the woods at once, listening hard for additional sounds, and heard them quickly. A horse neighed loudly. There was another shout, this time from a man, and then a clash of metal upon metal as a sword fight began.

"Make haste, gentlemen!" shouted Sir Murray, who'd drawn his sword and redirected his horse. Sir Jack did the same, drawing his sword and kicking his heels into Puck, his trusted steed. Puck galloped forward through the snow and into the woods where the skirmish took place. The woods were home to a secondary road, one that lead to a village on the outskirts of the city of Bittle. Sir Jack had patrolled this road frequently over his five years in the brotherhood, as it was known to be dangerous.

A band of seven brigands had attacked a small family who traveled the road on horseback. A man defended his wife and teenage daughter, but just as the knights were within reach, the man's head was removed from his body with a swipe of a sword. His wife, caught in the clutches of two others, screamed loud and fainted. The daughter, wrestling against a man twice her size, screamed as well and kicked ferociously at her attacker. 

Sir Jack leapt from his horse and with a swipe, he cut across the back of the man attacking the daughter. The brigand fell to the ground with a curse and a groan. The daughter was hysterical, fighting Sir Jack despite the royal insignia of the kingdom of Samwell upon his chest plate. Sir Jack sat her on the ground, for she was further from the fight than the others, and knelt in front of her.

"Calm yourself, my lady. We are here to protect you," Sir Jack said to her.

"My father! M-my father!" she sobbed, tears flowing heavy from her eyes.

"I know. Wait here. We will ward off the others."

The daughter screamed again, pointing behind Sir Jack. He turned immediately and lifted his sword in time to block the swing of a war hammer. Sir Jack struggled, grasping the hilt of his sword with both hands to prevent the hammer from hitting either he or the girl, and managed to stand and fend it off. The ugly, dirty brigand swung the hammer again and Sir Jack rolled out of the way as it hit the hard earth with a horrendous thud. Sir Jack leapt to his feet and attacked, aiming for the weak joint between the brigand's helmet and armor. 

He felt his sword meet skin just as the hammer met him. The brigand's head flew off his body and into the woods, but Sir Jack fell hard to the ground, a loud yell emitting from his throat as he collapsed. He gasped and grunted as he looked at his left leg. Blood pooled underneath the silver of his armor and stained the snowy ground a deep red. The metal dented inward in a way it should not have been able to do. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt in his life. He did not even attempt to move his leg, for it throbbed like incoming death. He could not think of the daughter, still sobbing beside him, or of the other brigands his company continued to fight. If any reached him he was surely dead, for he was in all consuming pain.

"Sir Jack, can you hear me? Roger, a tourniquet, now!"

It sounded like Sir Murray's voice. The forest was beginning to turn gray and the voices harder to hear.

"Sir Roger is dead."

"Who else? Is anyone else hurt?"

"No, Sir Murray. We are otherwise unharmed."

"I will tie his leg. Get him on his horse and ride like the wind, Sir John, for he will be lost to us otherwise."

Sir Jack felt the pressure of something on his thigh, but the world faded fast. Five years was a good run, and he was hurt in the defense of a lady. He accepted what was to come. He closed his eyes and let himself go.


	2. Chapter One

Jack meandered the cobblestone streets in the market square, taking his time. Early harvests were beginning to come in, so every merchant had wares worth buying. The west end of the square smelled of roasted nuts, the south end of cured meats, and everywhere Jack turned, he could see something that caught his eye. He paced himself, however, both in speed and spend, as he only needed enough to make meals for the week. 

He'd purchased a turkey, freshly plucked and gutted. It hanged from his belt and beat against his right leg as he moved along to the vegetable stand. The zucchini and tomatoes from his favorite farm looked heavenly, so he bought as much as he needed. It was enough, and his purse felt too light upon his belt, so he cast his eyes away from the stalls and headed out of the square and toward home.

The notice board sat at the edge of the square. Jack usually checked it for work, but as usual, people wanted strong bodies to assist with the summer harvest, and his body was far from strong. 

He sat upon a stone bench to rest before the walk home. The house was not far from the square, but with the ache in his knee, he knew better than to attempt it one go. He reviewed the notices on the board. As expected, most of them were pointless for someone like he — a former knight, past his days of glory — but one of them caught his eye:

_On Order from His Royal Highness, King Eric the First:_

_A position of Concubine to the King is immediately available. All men willing to serve their King in this regard shall report to the Royal Castle at one o'clock in the afternoon on the first of May to demonstrate before the court their prowess and vitality._

_Interesting,_ thought Jack. King Eric had just been wed to Princess Larissa of Boston. It was a celebration that lasted for days, which provided food and drink to all inhabitants of the capital city of Bittle, with remains from the feast distributed to the outlying villages. King Eric was a fair and just monarch; the city of Bittle and the surrounding lands of the Samwell Kingdom flourished from prosperity, as all loved and lived to serve their liege. The alliance with nearby Boston via the marriage to Princess Larissa was a natural move, as their monarchs held similar values and long since wished to unite the lands, but the marriage still confused Jack. There were heavy rumors — a terribly kept secret — that the king preferred men to women. The specific request for men in the notice only confirmed that. 

Jack had only met the king once, five years prior when Jack fulfilled his family's wishes and became a Knight of the High Court. Eric, just a young lad of thirteen and in his first year of his rule, touched his ceremonial sword to each of Jack's shoulders and told him to arise, Sir Jack of Samwell, and serve crown and country with his very life. Jack did for five wonderful years. He successfully defended the lands from the legendary Ace of Spades. He rid the countryside of a dragon that threatened to destroy the cranberry farms, the Kingdom of Samwell's primary export. Jack was regarded as a knight of an elite nature, which earned him the admiration of many lords and ladies. Jack had no qualms about accepting their admiration. 

Then, just the past winter, misfortune befell him when he received a devastating blow to his left knee during a fight with brigands in the woods outside the capital. While he escaped with his life, the injury to his knee was severe. It required a surgery that he actively chose to forget, as it was horridly unpleasant to experience. The surgery allowed him to walk, but his days as a Knight of the High Court were over, and he found himself out of a job.

While his adventures and exploits allowed Jack to accumulate quite a bit of wealth, he knew that wealth would not last forever. He had only just recovered enough strength to be able to begin his search for employment, but nothing as of yet proved promising. The notice on the board, however, seemed intriguing. Jack could not deny that if he could not serve his crown as a knight, the service of a concubine would suit him well. There was only one concern: the notice asked for a demonstration of "prowess and vitality."

Vitality he had in spades. Prowess… that could be challenging.

It was worth an attempt, however, and seeing as his only plans for the afternoon were to pack away his goods from the market, he headed to the castle after lunch.

There was a line in the courtyard that reached from the front doors to the gatehouse. Jack looked over the queue of men of all shapes, sizes, and ages. While long, the line moved quickly as people were given a once-over and ushered either toward the exit or inside the castle. When it was Jack's turn, a man in red stately robes looked him up and down before he pointed inside.

There were very few others inside, and as Jack looked them over, they all seemed to fit the same general build: tall, fit, and strong. There seemed to be another inspection here, away from the eyes of the general public who could gather at the gates and ogle over the prospective concubines for the king. This inspection was of the body — the entire body — so Jack was directed to remove all of his clothes. This inspection was much more thorough than the once-over in the courtyard, so Jack had to wait several minutes as the others were scrutinized in detail and accepted or denied. Several were denied. Those who were accepted were asked to sit at the end of the room, still naked.

An inspector denied the man in front of Jack and then motioned for Jack to step forward. Jack waited, silent, as the man turned over Jack's hands, looked under his arms, ran his fingers along Jack's chest and back, turned his head, and then, to Jack's surprise, spread the cheeks of his ass and also lifted his flaccid penis to inspect his testicles and perineum. The inspector was silent until he took hold of Jack's left knee.

"What is this?" he demanded, his hand upon a long, red scar.

"I required surgery to my knee this past winter."

"Are there lasting effects?" he asked. 

"No, sir," Jack fibbed. "The surgery was successful."

The inspector stood, his expression stern. "Take two laps about the room at a full run."

Jack did, slightly embarrassed to do so while naked. The feat itself was not much; he had been running as part of his rehabilitation, and while some days were worse than others, the weather that afternoon was dry. He was able to push through the aching without a change to his gait, speed, or expression. Jack returned to the inspector.

"I'm inclined to deny you based on the sight of your knee," said the inspector, "but you've no doubt the largest cock of the candidates thus far, so I will allow you to move forward. Sit and wait for your audience with the king."

As Jack sat with the other candidates, the door opened and in walked a young man, dressed in the royal red robes of the castle staff. The young man knelt in front of the first candidate in line and, without a word, took his cock in hand and began to stroke it. The recipient of the handjob was surprised but said nothing. It was clear the action was only meant to ensure the candidate would begin his audience with an erection, as neither looked at the other and it ended as soon as the candidate reached hardness. 

Jack was not sure how many men had been granted an audience with the king before Jack entered the room, but after the three in front of him had their turn, there were four in wait behind Jack and five others to be inspected. Jack was not sure what the king had in mind, or if there was room for more than one concubine in his court, but the chances that Jack would be selected were dwindling. None of the others selected had such a horrendous scar on their knee, but, as Jack surreptitiously checked, none of the others had the length or girth to match him.

The door opened and the young man entered. The previous audience had been very short, which made Jack nervous. Those nerves subsided as the young man took his cock in hand and began to stroke it. The handjob was formal, businesslike, but still accomplished the task. Jack was hard within a minute, and the young man looked up at Jack with surprise.

"Impressive," he said.

Jack did not know how to respond, so he said nothing. They stood and exited the room. The young man led Jack into an antechamber and stopped at a set of tall, majestic doors. He checked on Jack's erection, which had not waned during their walk, but just in case Jack received a few additional strokes. It felt very good and calmed his nerves again.

"What is your name?" the young man asked.

"Sir Jack of Samwell," said Jack.

"Sir Jack?" the young man asked, surprised. "But surely you must know, good sir, that the position of Royal Concubine cannot be fulfilled by a knight of this court."

"I am no longer a knight of this court," said Jack. "My injury has resulted in my dismissal from the brotherhood."

"Hmm," said the young man. "I will introduce you, but I cannot guarantee the king will grant you a full audience based on your history. I will delay your announcement until he can see you plainly, as your cock may persuade him otherwise."

"My thanks," said Jack.

The young man knocked thrice on the doors and they opened to reveal the grandeur of King Eric's throne room. Jack had not been granted the honor to step inside it since his knighting ceremony. Even the celebration of his defeat over the dragon was held in the town square. Despite his successes, Jack was just one of hundreds of knights in the land of Samwell, so while he had won favor from the denizens, slaying a dragon and the Ace of Spades was just all in a day's work.

Jack entered the hall and approached the dual thrones at the end of the thick red carpet. He noticed at once that the newly coronated queen was not present, but the king sat upon the leftmost chair, his crown upon his head, his left hand gripping the arm of his golden throne, the other draped loosely over the right.

The king had grown much in the five years since Jack's knighting. No longer was he a young lad of thirteen, uncomfortable in his skin and unsure of the duties before him. This was a successful and beloved man of eighteen, now married, now assured of his responsibilities to his country. He sat up straight in his chair, making no use of the back to support his impeccable posture. He held his head under the weight of his crown. He wore a cape made of the royal purple, but otherwise wore the customary trousers, doublet, and white undershirt that ruffled at the collar and cuffs. His shoes were heeled, immensely so, and matched the pleasant bronze color of his doublet. He wore several rings on each hand and a gold medallion around his neck with the Royal Sigil engraved upon it — a rabbit. His face was pleasant but showed little expression; his brown eyes were large, his nose small and upturned, and his lips were thin and closed. His hair was the color of straw and the cut was so that there was plenty of length along the top of his head, but each side trimmed short. As Jack approached him, the king's eyes raked the length of his body, stopping several times between Jack's legs. 

He was beautiful, and Jack wished nothing more than to please him.

Jack stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the throne and knelt upon his right knee, bowing his head.

"Oliver, announce this candidate," snapped a man standing on the front-right corner of the raised platform that made up the throne. Jack had not noticed him until he spoke but did not dare to look up without permission.

"Your majesty, if it would please the court, I present to you Sir Jack of Samwell, a former Knight of the High Court."

"Former?" said a light voice which could only have come from the king. It was breathy, kind, with a lilt of an accent most of the nobility carried.

"Sir Knight, arise and explain yourself," said the man to the king's right. "It has been decreed to the Knights of the High Court that this position is not available to them."

Jack stood and addressed the king directly, although the king was looking at Jack's cock again. "Your majesty," Jack said, "you bestowed upon me the honor of knighthood five years ago. I served you loyally until this past winter, when I was injured in a battle with brigands. While I have been able to regain the strength in my knee, I have been dismissed from my post in the brotherhood as I am no longer able to ride my horse."

The king raised an eyebrow and tore his gaze away from Jack's cock to look him in the eyes. "You are no longer able to ride?" the king asked.

"I assure you, your majesty, that while I may be unable to mount a horse, my ability to ride in general has not been affected."

"We may need to put that to the test," said the king before he nodded to the man in the front-right. Jack looked at him for the first time; he, like many others in the kingdom, wore his brown hair long, and paired it with an impressive mustache. He must have been the king's advisor, as no one else stood within such close proximity, even the guards.

"The application requires a demonstration of vitality," said the advisor. "We will test you in multiple ways, Sir Former Knight of the High Court, and it would behoove you to perform at your best, for each test may be your last."

Jack nodded.

"Begin, Sir Knight, to show us how you pleasure yourself."

Jack took his cock in his right hand. There were several people in the throne room between the king, his advisor, and the guards. Oliver remained behind Jack, and from Jack's peripheral vision he could see the guards lining the room. There had to be an audience of at least ten. Jack had never masturbated in front of one person, let alone ten, but he was doing this for the ability to please his king, so he did his best to tune out everyone and instead stand before the throne and stroke his cock. 

He took his time, as he knew a quick orgasm would only be seen as a negative, but he allowed the rest of it to flow as naturally as it could, from his stuttered breath to his closed eyes to his tiny moans. He let it build as it would if he were doing this in his bed in his own home, rather than for the eyes of several others. When his orgasm approached, he let himself grunt and groan as he began to shoot onto the carpet in front of him. From the state of it, he could tell he was not the first one to do so.

He let go of himself. While normally he would wipe the mess up with a cloth or rinse in a basin, he had no such luxuries afforded to him there, so he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean. As he did, he raised his eyes and realized that he had the king's full attention. He held that attention until he finished licking his fingers, and then lowered his hand. 

The royal advisor looked at the king, who nodded enthusiastically. It must have been too enthusiastic, because he quickly reset himself and pressed his lips together to hide his emotion. The subtle betrayal of interest filled Jack with confidence. 

The royal advisor nodded to a man against the wall. Jack looked over and one of the guards approached, having left his spear behind. As the guard approached, he began to remove his armor. "You will prepare and take this man," said the advisor. "Do you wish for a surface or will the floor suffice?"

"A table would be appreciated," said Jack.

The advisor nodded to someone else and a table was brought forth. Jack bent the guard, who was also naked, over the table so as to have easy access to his ass.

The guard was not attractive. He paled in comparison to the beauty of the king, as anyone would, but even by the standards of commonfolk, he did not have a pleasant face nor body. He was hairy, doughy, and had too much nose and too little eyes. The table was there so Jack had a better surface to perform the deed, but also so he didn't have to look at the guard's face. Jack turned his gaze to the king, who waited for Jack to begin. Jack took in the sight of the king's slender, pleasant face and kept it in his mind as he knelt onto his right knee again and began licking the guard's hole. The guard gave no sign that he enjoyed the preparation apart from his erection, but also gave no sign that he wasn't enjoying it, especially after Jack, who had been provided oil for lubrication, sunk his cock in.

Jack knew better than to give the guard his entire cock. It may have been visually appealing and fueled many a fantasy, but a cock his size had to be handled carefully, and not every person could take it at all, much less take it to the root. After he began fucking he sneaked another glance at the king, and it was enough to fuel him through orgasm. He made no attempt to hide his pleasure or hinder his partner from hiding his pleasure, although his partner rarely reacted.

He came upon the guard's back and then, once he'd calmed down, turned the guard into a seated posture and went back down to a knee to finish him off with his hand and mouth. The guard's cock was no more than five inches long, so it was simple for Jack to take it all in. This act was a little more difficult; not only was Jack's knee aching from kneeling for so long, but this required engagement with his partner. Jack looked the guard in the eyes as he finished the task. 

The guard came after three minutes. Jack, uninterested in his partner, directed the cock up toward the guard's own stomach. Jack stood and faced the king, who nodded at the advisor. The advisor nodded at the guard, who collected himself and redressed before he returned to his station along the wall. The advisor then nodded to a guard on the other side of the room, who left his spear behind as he approached.

"You will now be prepared and taken by this man," said the advisor. Jack looked at his next companion; while still not as beautiful as the king, he had a decent face. Jack would have accepted him in a whorehouse, if necessary. "As you are the one being taken," continued the advisor, "you will accept whatever position he wishes."

Jack nodded.

"My dear guard," said the king. The guard immediately stopped undressing and gave the king his full attention. Jack did the same. The king glanced at Jack and a smile broke out onto his lips. "You may take this man however you wish, but I must request you allow him to demonstrate that he can ride you."

"Yes, your majesty," said the guard with a bow. 

Once naked, the guard approached Jack and, to Jack's surprise, kissed him. Jack lifted his hand to the side of the guard's face and kissed him back, matching his intensity and care. The guard was attentive to Jack's body, running his hands along his back and down to his ass, and then around to the front to begin to rub his cock. Jack did the same, gripping the guard's ass frequently, running his hands along the guard's stomach and down to his erection, which Jack could feel poking him.

The guard directed Jack to the floor rather than the table, where the guard dutifully opened him. It had been many months since Jack had last fucked a man at all, and at least two years since he'd had a man inside of him, so he was grateful for the preparation. He had been worried that he'd have to take a cock dry and unopened. 

For the first time since entering the great hall, Jack began to feel pleasure. The guard was quite good at what he was doing, and Jack was no longer dreading the upcoming act, but instead wanted it. He panted and groaned, turning his face toward the king, and looked the king in the eyes as he said, "Please, fuck me." Jack was turned onto his front and his hips lifted so he was kneeling. He did not prefer this position at all; the floor, despite its majestic carpeting, was still the floor, and his left knee rested painfully upon it as the guard entered him and began to fuck him. He shifted a few times, hoping to relieve the pressure on his knee, but there was no helping that. The only thing helping him was the eyes of the king, locked on his own.

As Jack continued, the pain in his knee, the unfamiliar guard behind him, and the rest of the royal hall disappeared. There were only the deep brown eyes of the man upon the throne. Jack wanted more. He wanted to rip off the ridiculous puffed trousers and see what was underneath. He wanted to make the king moan and writhe. He wanted to make the king scream in ecstasy and then settle on Jack's chest, whisper something sweet, and fight falling asleep because they would rather stare at each other.

Jack's partner pulled out after just a few minutes and lay on his back. Jack straddled him and directed the cock back into him, slowly, carefully. He looked up; he was still facing the king. He did not need to turn his head to look him in the eyes. The king continued to look back at him, so Jack began to ride his partner with fervor. His knee ached; it still was not completely comfortable, but it was enough that he could focus on the pleasure rather than the pain.

The king stared at him, a small smile on his lips. Jack watched as the king raised his right hand to rest it upon his temple. Jack rode to maximize not his own pleasure, but the pleasure of his partner, resting his hands on his partner's chest and working his ass both up and down but around as well, rolling his hips. 

They stared at each other, Jack imagining that the cock inside of him belonged to the king rather than an unnamed guard, and that was what brought the orgasm. Jack kept his eyes open as long as he could but then, he could not, so he shut them tight, let out a cry, and began to come.

Now that he had finished, the guard turned them to the side and began plowing Jack from behind. This was the most comfortable position by far, despite the hardness of the floor underneath them. The guard clearly had plenty of time left in him, so he turned Jack's face for kisses, ran his tongue and lips over Jack's neck, and after a moment, took Jack's cock back in his hand. He hit Jack in a particularly good spot in this position, and so it was no surprise to Jack that, after several minutes of taking the cock, he was ready to come again.

It worked out well; just as Jack began breathing hard and panting, the guard did as well. The guard whispered, "Are you close?"

"Yes," Jack whined.

"Let's come together, then," said the guard.

They did; the guard inside of Jack and Jack onto the carpet beside him. The guard carefully extracted himself. Jack regained his composure and returned to his feet. He faced the king and the king's advisor, awaiting further direction — although, after four orgasms over the course of a half an hour, he hoped they were done with him.

"The audience has concluded," said the advisor, to Jack's relief.

Jack looked at the king and knelt upon one knee again, bowing his head. "I hope that I have served you well, your majesty," he said.

"You are dismissed," said the advisor.

Jack stood and exited the throne room. In the hallway, he was handed his clothes and pushed toward the exit. He redressed and left the castle. Once out of sight of the guards, he collapsed onto a crate and grasped his knee with a grimace, for it pained him terribly.


	3. Chapter Two

After his swift dismissal from the castle, Jack was not confident about his chances at securing the position. While he had given his name and explained his connection to the High Court, he was asked no other details about himself. While the king had clearly been impressed by the size of his cock, that alone did not mean he would be selected. There was plenty more to the duties of a Royal Concubine apart from what was between his legs.

He did not know what he was to do were he not selected. He knew better than to put his hope in something like this, especially after seeing the line of candidates, but six months had gone by since his dismissal from the brotherhood and there was little hope for anything else. He had no transferable skills: farmhands did not find stock in swordplay but rather strength, which Jack's knee refused to lend; stablemen did not care that Jack could read, only that he could not ride; merchants recognized Jack as a knight and felt their meager wages too lowly to offer. Jack felt as though nothing was too low for him. On the way home he passed the Swallow, a brothel near the castle gates. It was the only brothel in the city that offered men as well as women, and he wondered if he could not become a concubine, would he have to seek employment there?

He was exhausted when he returned home and his knee hurt tremendously, so he filled a tub with the water he had boiling over the fire, diluted the temperature with water from the well, and then sunk in. It was still quite warm, and it soothed his aching joints. He felt like a much older man. He was but twenty-three, and while a twenty-three-year-old should have been married with children, he never had time to find a wife. The lords and ladies of the High Court, as well as some of the bolder commonfolk, had always lavished him enough attention to satisfy his pleasures, but desired no commitment from him. He knew he would not be able to remain a lasting companion for anyone with how often he traveled the lands of Samwell. 

After his bath he took a long nap and then prepared dinner. He had just sat down at his table to eat when he heard the sound of hooves clop up the cobblestone street and stop in front of his residence. The sound caused his heart to beat wildly in his chest.

The house sat in a quiet part of the city. He'd been there many years now, since receiving his knighthood. He loved that his neighbors were out during the day, tending to their own shops and duties, and were quiet during the evening. No one owned a horse, or at least none of them kept their horse on the street, for he never heard hooves this close unless there was official business. This sounded like official business.

He took several hurried bites of a turkey leg before he washed it down with a long swig of ale. Just as he did, there was a loud knock upon the door.

"Open in the name of the king!"

Jack's heart continued to pound in his chest as he hurried to the door. His knee was much better after the bath and the nap, but he could still feel the activity of the day catching up with him. Regardless, he threw open the door and hoped he wasn't mistaken, and was actually being arrested for an unknown offense.

A man of the royal guard stood in front of him, wearing a crimson cape, a feathered hat, and a sword upon his hip. "Are you Sir Jack?" he asked.

"I am," said Jack.

"Gather only what is precious to you and come with me. Leave the rest behind."

Jack left the door open as he did what he was told. There was not much precious to him. Prior to his injury, he spent very little time in the house. Since then he'd acquired more junk, but it was still only junk. He took three items: the portrait commissioned by his father when he was just a lad, the only likeness of his parents that remained; a hand-painted shield that bore his family's crest; and the sword of the High Court, a gift upon his knighthood.

The guard at the door looked at the possessions.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Yes," said Jack.

The guard took the sword from Jack. Jack knew better than to resist. "I shall return it to you at the castle after you have settled."

Jack wanted to ask if this meant he got the job, but that much was obvious. Jack was escorted into a carriage adorned with the Samwell crest. The sun was low but had not set yet, so he was carried to the castle in the pale light, visible to anyone who looked upon him. There were many stares and whispers by the townsfolk as he passed, but he forced himself to think of the honor he had just been bestowed. There were many men who sought this position, and Jack had been selected out of all of them. 

Upon arriving at the castle, Jack was directed through a door on the west side of the courtyard and up a flight of stairs to the second level. There were several ornate doors branching out from the main hallway, each with golden trim and spotless doorknobs. The hall, like the throne room, was lined with red carpet. The walls were painted cream and had several trimmings and designs upon them to highlight the art that carried all the way through it. They must have been depictions of kings past, for every framed portrait was of a man in a crown.

"This door leads to the Queen's Tower," said the royal guard. "You will have no reason to go there." The guard gestured to a door on the other side of the hall. "This leads to the royal dining hall. You may be invited there, but do not expect to spend much time there, especially if the king dines with foreigners."

Jack did not allow himself to frown, although he very much felt like it. He supposed it was true.

"The library," said the guard, gesturing again, "the piano room, the art and sculpture wing, the study, the…"

The guard listed every room they passed, but they did not enter, for the guard also informed Jack that these were not his. He finally opened a door that led to another set of stairs. Jack's knee practically groaned in pain.

"This is the King's Tower," said the guard. "Your room is here, near the king's private chambers. The king may invite you to his private chambers, if he so chooses, but you are to remain in your room unless you are needed elsewhere."

"Yes, sir," said Jack, only because he was a former Knight of the High Court and not a current one. Knights could become lords, if their prowess and political ideals were right. It was an honor for a lady to marry a knight. Guards remained guards for eternity. It made Jack feel a twinge of pity, as his escort led him into the tower; even Jack, now a concubine, was held in higher regard than this guard ever would be. Even as a concubine, Jack still held the title of sir and, were he so inclined to so, could instruct the royal guard to address him thusly. He did not because Jack did not know this guard's name, and would never need to.

The stairs were numerous but lined with carpet. The staircase itself was grand and the walls covered with more art. These paintings must have been selected by the king himself, because they did not depict former kings or family, but instead landscapes, still life, happy people in relaxed situations, and a few paintings so obscure Jack could not decipher their meaning. All of them were signed in the bottom right corner with the initials LB.

They finally reached the top of the tower, and Jack sighed in relief. There were several rooms here, more than Jack expected given the size of the staircase. The guard did not give Jack a tour but instead opened the first door on the left to reveal a bedroom larger than Jack's house.

Jack tried not to gape, but he could not help his eyes from roaming the room. "This is your room," said the guard. "Sit and settle. Your attendant will be in soon to prepare you."

Jack did not have time to ask for what exactly he was preparing. The guard leaned Jack's sword against the stone hearth and left the room. 

Now alone, Jack allowed himself to gape. Everything about the room felt decadent, from the four-post bed with expensive, soft sheets to the decorations on the walls and the trimmings on the furniture. Jack had a bed, a sitting area with both a sofa and chair, a bookshelf, a plush rug in front of the fireplace and, best of all, a roaring fire. He sat upon the rug and warmed himself by the fire; the sun had now set and the castle was beginning to feel cold.

He had no idea where to place his family portrait or his sword and shield. It was clear he would not need his sword and shield again, so the proper thing to do would be to mount them. He loved every single one of the paintings that hanged in his room, but decided, after close scrutiny, that the one nearest the window could go. He was just switching out the portraits when the door opened and a woman in servant clothes entered.

"Sir Knight," she said with a curtsy. "I am Delia and I am here at your service."

Delia was a short and well-rounded woman, possibly the age of Jack's mother when she died. Her clothing was clean and well-made, despite the lack of detail and color denoting her a servant rather than a member of the nobility. She wore a white covering over her brown hair; the covering matched her apron. When she approached, Jack noticed a few strands of gray in her hair, which confirmed her age. She was quite pretty, and Jack almost felt like he was home again with her in the room.

"My thanks, Delia," Jack said. "I was told I needed to be prepared for something?"

"Yes," said Delia. "The king has requested that you sup with him tonight in his personal dining room. When have you last bathed?"

"Just this afternoon," said Jack. "After my audience."

"Then we may forgo the bath, but there are still many personal matters that need your attention, so we will begin immediately. Come with me, please, Sir Knight."

"If you wish, you may just call me Jack," said Jack.

"I would not dare address you so casually, my dear sir," said Delia. "This way."

Delia led him across the hall to a bathroom that was equally the size of his bedroom. The centerpiece of the room was the bath, big enough to fit several people inside of it. It was presently empty but as Jack looked, there were several jars full of water as well as an additional jar boiling over the fire. There were two chaises in here, meant for reclining, as well as a private privy. A large mirror was hung on a wall. There were shelves of beautiful, fluffy towels and a display of various oils and perfumes that filled the room with the general scent of privilege. Delia stopped beside a cushioned table that looked as though it was not usually there.

"If you would kindly remove your clothes and lay face-down upon the table."

If he was to be a concubine, he knew he better get used to nudity sooner or later, but this was by far his most naked day since childhood. He removed his clothes and lay upon the table as directed. Almost immediately he felt a cool, damp cloth run over the most intimate area of his body, which he expected. What he did not expect was an extremely warm, thick substance being smeared directly over and around his anus. 

"What are you doing?" Jack asked.

"I apologize, Sir Knight, but his majesty detests hair. I'm removing it."

Just as quickly as the warm substance had been applied, it was removed with force, causing a jolt of pain to run through Jack's body. "OW!" Jack yelled.

"Yes, it will hurt, but this should not take long."

She applied the substance to Jack's testicles and he tensed immediately. "Please try to relax, Sir Knight, it will be easier that way."

 _But it will still hurt,_ thought Jack. He attempted to relax, but the pain was even worse upon his testicles than had been upon his ass. He buried his face in the cushion of the table and waited it out, but at one point he was directed to turn over, and so he placed his hands over his face as Delia finished. It only took a few minutes, but it brought up memories of his knee surgery. Once it was over, he felt a gentle brush of a cloth again and a soothing relief as some sort of tincture was applied over the recently groomed area.

"All finished, Sir Knight," said Delia. "Come with me, I have something that should fit you. The Master of Wardrobes will be here tomorrow to fill your closet."

Jack stood up carefully; despite the soothing tincture, he was still tender. The heat had died down but the tingling remained, and he was afraid to walk with his usual gait. They passed a full-length mirror and Jack paused to look at himself. It was incredibly odd to see his genitals bereft of hair. Delia had left the trail that led down from his navel, but the trail led nowhere. Jack did not examine himself for long; he was not certain that he liked this. Delia waited patiently for him and then dressed him. He was perfectly capable of putting his own clothes on, but he did not object as she tended to him. 

He was dressed in a cream colored cloth tunic, something he'd seen in old paintings and sometimes among the poorest commonfolk; it was considerably out of fashion compared to his jerkin and shirt. The tunic was tied at the waist with a gold cord. He was not given anything to cover his legs but was given a pair of sandals. 

"That will do for this evening," said Delia. Jack had a feeling that regardless of his dress, he would not be wearing it for long. She looked him over and he tried not to feel self-conscious as she studied his face. "I'll call for the barber to cut your hair tomorrow. For tonight, however —" She stepped to a washing basin and handed him a sharp razor. "Please remove your entire beard."

The water was warm and the soap lathered quickly. As Jack brushed it onto his face, he was hit with a strong floral scent that he could not identify. It smelled very nice. Delia stood patiently by his side, silent, as he shaved his entire face and neck. She handed him a towel when he finished and he wiped himself clean. She placed the towel in a bin and selected an oil from the shelf, then returned to him and proceeded to dab it in several places about his body. The oil was the same floral scent as the soap.

"I believe you are ready, Sir Knight," she said. "The dinner bell should ring any moment now, but you may wait in your room. Is there anything I can get for you? Anything that you need?"

"Actually, yes," said Jack, and he walked with Delia across the red carpeted hallway and back into his room. He gestured to the wall above the hearth. "Would it be possible to mount my sword and shield above the hearth?"

"Of course," said Delia. "I'll have the staff take care of that while you are at dinner. This sword and shield here?" Delia gestured to the two pieces resting to the side of the hearth. Jack nodded. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, Delia. My thanks for your service."

"You're welcome, Sir Knight. I'll return with the bell to bring you to the dining room."

Delia left. Jack avoided the bed, knowing if he felt how comfortable it was, he would not want to get up from it, dinner or no dinner, king or no king. He instead tried out both the sofa and the chair, and found them both to mold to his body as he sat upon them. He stayed in his chair since it had a good view of the bookshelf, and he reviewed the titles there. 

Reading had always been a hobby of his, but it had become a necessity as of late; there was little to keep him occupied while he recovered from surgery, and even less now that he was out of work. When he began his pageboy duties at the age of seven he had been taught to read and write, but the skill was still a rarity amongst the people of Samwell. There was little value in reading and writing as opposed to crafting, sword fighting, or farming. Because of this, it was difficult to find a book for sale at the market, but when Jack did come across one, they usually sold for cheap, as there was very little demand. Jack had read and reread all of his books at this point, some so much that he could recite entire passages from memory. This bookshelf contained at least a hundred books that Jack had never read before, so he delighted at the thought of working through them for the duration of his employment.

He wondered how long he would be employed, and if his age would cause that employment to end sooner than expected. He was five years older than the king, and while five years did not seem like a long time, it was the length of Jack's service in the brotherhood. He had seen and accomplished much in that time, and yet he still remembered his eighteenth birthday as if it had occurred that morning. It was not a morning he wished to remember.

He heard the sound of a bell from down the hall. It was clear but pleasant. He had been worried that the bell would either be too light to hear or too heavy to bear. A moment later, the door opened and Delia entered.

"If you'll come with me, Sir Knight, I'll show you to the dining room."

He followed Delia down the hall and to the door next to the bathroom. When he stepped inside he was taken aback by the size of the room once more. The table could seat a dozen, if not more, but at the present was unoccupied apart from the grand spread upon it. Jack immediately regretted shoving his own pithy dinner into his face, for this was certainly of better quality than anything he could have made for himself. In addition to the table, there were two uniformed servants waiting along the wall. Jack glanced at them and they nodded at him; while they were dressed the same and each held a silver pitcher, they were nothing alike. One had bright red hair and freckles to match, the other dark brown hair, a hint of a beard, and green eyes. Jack nodded back to them.

Delia directed him to a seat just to the right of the head of the table. He sat. Once he did, the red-headed servant filled one goblet in front of him with crystal clear water, and then the other servant filled a second goblet with wine. Jack did not touch either, knowing full well he needed to wait for the king. 

The door opened and Jack stood at once as King Eric, no longer wearing a crown but still dressed in his purple cape from the audience, entered with a flourish. Jack bowed but the king lifted a hand.

"Please, Sir Knight, be at ease. We are not among broader company," said the king. Jack straightened his back but still did not sit until the king sat at the head of the table. Once he did, his goblets were filled and he was asked what he wished to eat from the spread in front of him. King Eric chose a slice of pork, two buttered rolls, and "as many grapes as you can fit upon the plate."

Once the king was served, Jack was asked the same question. He also selected a slice of pork and a roll, but also accepted the roasted potatoes and half a dozen strawberries. While he was not very hungry, he had absolutely no qualms about eating what looked and smelled like a delectable meal. He waited for the king to take his first bite before he dove in; it was as delicious as he expected.

"Everyone, please leave us," said the king after he swallowed a grape. "I will call for you when we are through."

The two servants and Delia bowed to the king before they quietly left; the jugs were placed upon the table within reach. Once the door shut, the king relaxed considerably. He slumped against the back of his chair, pulled a leg up beside him, and popped grapes into his mouth with his fingers, completely ignoring the rest of what was on his plate.

"So, Sir Knight, tell me," said the king, talking around the food in his mouth, "were you surprised by my decision?"

"I was," said Jack with complete sincerity. The king laughed and Jack fought his smile; the laugh was hearty and loud, full of happiness and joy.

"How ever could you be? Lord Byron, my advisor, insisted I see the rest of the applicants but I'd made my decision the moment you rode that poor fellow to death."

"I was too worried my knee would pose a problem," said Jack.

"We can work around your knee," said the king. "And besides, you'll meet with my personal physician tomorrow. If he cannot alleviate the problem, he will be able to at least prescribe an elixir to ease the pain."

Jack hid his grimace by stuffing a piece of pork into his mouth. The king refilled Jack's wine glass before he refilled his own. "You must be wondering why I seek a concubine so soon after my wedding."

"I am, your majesty."

"Sir Knight," said the king firmly. "When we are alone, I wish you to call me Eric."

Jack did not hide his smile this time. "Eric," he said.

"But only when we're alone," Eric clarified. "The servants would throw you in the dungeon if you addressed me so casually in their presence."

"Duly noted. If you wish, your — Eric. If you wish, Eric, you may just call me Jack."

Eric smiled. "We'll see what name you prefer after you've had time to cause something unholy to slip from my mouth," he said. "I am willing to explain my reasoning, not only because this is your position, but because you may fulfill your duties with more rigor were you to understand. It is no secret that I have no interest in women. My marriage to Larissa is purely political. The kingdoms of Samwell and Boston have long since been allies, but there has never been an opportunity for union until now. I wish nothing more than to continue that alliance, and to perhaps someday merge our two great nations, but in doing so I am required to not only wed their princess, but produce an heir as well.

"Larissa is, and has always been, a close friend. If I were to pick someone to spend my life with — sex notwithstanding — it would undoubtedly be her. Larissa and I have spent countless hours together, laughing and gossiping and enjoying one another's company. Larissa is aware that I have no romantic interest in her, and it's all well and good with her. She knew that her duty in life, most unfortunately, was to marry an important man regardless of her opinion on the matter. She is grateful to have married me, because at least she cares for me. Furthermore she has been in no-so-secret love with Lord Byron since the moment she met him. I've encouraged this affair, given she be careful as to not beget a child with him.

"So here is the rub. I must produce an heir, at least one and hopefully more in order to secure the future of the kingdom. I have spoken to my physician at length about this prior to the wedding, and he's assured me that he could medically insert my seed into Larissa and she could fall pregnant without my touch. This is a method greatly preferred by both Larissa and myself. And while there is no need for me to employ a concubine to extract my seed, I was urged to select a partner."

Jack had nearly finished his meal by the time Eric stopped talking. He'd said quite a lot, and Jack, mechanically eating while not at all hungry, hanged on every word. Eric had a beautiful voice, soft and joyous and melodic, but even better, it had a hint of an accent that some of the nobles in Bittle used. It was not a common accent by any means, but Jack had always found it appealing. Apart from his voice, Eric was quite expressive, both in his face and in his body. He used his entire person to speak.

"Well, Eric," said Jack after he swallowed down the last of his potatoes with wine, "I hope that I can extract your seed in many unique and pleasurable ways."

Eric's entire face blushed, and the reaction stirred excitement low in Jack's stomach. It was exactly the reaction he had hoped for, because it made Eric look beautiful. "I am excited to see all of your ways," said Eric as he attempted to compose himself. He put his leg back on the floor, leaned forward, and propped up his chin with a fist. "Are you finished?" he asked, looking at Jack's clean plate. Jack looked down and nodded. "I hope you didn't stuff yourself too full, because I insist you try a piece of pie."

Eric jumped up before Jack could answer and headed to the end of the full table where three beautiful pies lay waiting for someone to eat them. Jack was incredibly full, but if the king insisted, he would have to find room. Eric cut into the pie and served up a perfect slice. He set it down in front of Jack and then returned to his own chair.

"Are you not having any?" Jack asked. Eric shook his head but watched as Jack took a bite. 

It was more delicious than the rest of dinner. It was by far the most delicious thing that Jack had ever tasted. It was made of blueberries, delightfully sweet and rich in his mouth. 

"Do you like it?" Eric asked.

"Yes, very much," said Jack as he took another bite.

"Good. I made it."

"You made it?" Jack asked, astonished. "Do you not have a legion of bakers who could make this for you?"

"Of course I do," said Eric, "but baking has been a passion of mine since my youth. I rarely have time for it now that I've taken the crown, but I knew you would be here for dinner so I insisted on spending a little time in the kitchens. I'm so pleased that you like it."

Jack finished the slice in three more bites, but after he set down his fork, he could not fit another morsel into his mouth. He looked back at Eric, who dropped the hand that had been supporting his chin.

"I must be honest with you, Jack," said Eric. Jack swallowed hard, not only to force the pie down his throat, but to push down the swell of worry that arose within him. "I am very much looking forward to being with you, but I think we'll have to delay our first encounter until tomorrow. I spent the entire day auditioning candidates, even long after I'd decided upon you, and I am exhausted."

Jack was relieved. "It was also quite the day for me," he said.

"Then it is settled. Tomorrow you shall spend the bulk of the day meeting with my staff to prepare you for your new life here. There is much to be done, but please reserve your energy, for I wish to spend a quality evening with you."

Jack smiled. "Yes, your majesty."

Eric returned his smile before he stood. He rang the bell on the wall as he exited the dining room. Jack stood from the table and as he did, he looked over the remains of their dinner. It was as if they had eaten nothing. While the people of Bittle were well-fed and few lacked the means for a proper meal, it seemed a terrible waste. 

Before he could leave, the two servants and Delia returned. Behind them were several others that Jack had not yet met, but they all seemed to be staff members in the King's Tower based on their dress. They were chatting loudly with each other, and some of them were roughhousing as they entered the room, forcing Jack to step aside. Delia approached him. "You may withdraw to your quarters for the evening, Sir Knight," she said. "The bathroom is at your disposal if needed, but the king has requested that you not leave the tower."

She nodded to him before she took a seat at the table. As Jack left the room, he realized that all of the servants, eleven in total, had taken a seat at the table as well. Both of the dirty place settings were replaced, and the staff began to noisily and heartily dig in. Jack closed the door to the dining room behind him; he at least felt better about the volume of food now that he knew it would not go to waste.

He returned to his room with full intention to pass a few hours in his chair with the first book from the shelf, but his eyes landed on the bed, and he was quick to abandon that plan. He removed both his sandals and his belt, but kept the soft tunic. Despite its lack of style, it was quite comfortable, so it would be suitable for bed. He turned down the covers on his four-poster, climbed inside, and was asleep in seconds. 


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning for this one: Jack recaps the events of the prologue and briefly discusses the specifics of his injury.

Delia awoke Jack in the morning with a tray of fruit. He felt as though he could have slept the day away in the luxurious bed, but he was in fact quite rested, so he arose without complaint. After breakfast, Delia led him to the bathroom where he washed, cleaned his teeth, and shaved again. By the time they returned to his room, a man waited next to a large trunk and a short pedestal. He was not one of the servants Jack passed at dinner the night before, so he must not have served only the King's Tower. 

"Sir Knight, this is Carlton, the wardrobe master," said Delia.

Carlton's doublet and trousers were ornate and flattering, which befit his trade. He was not much older than Jack, but wore a hard expression underneath a waxed brown goatee; it aged him several years. At first sight, Jack did not care much for him. 

"Stand here and remove your shift," said Carlton with no attempt at a greeting. Jack decided he did not care for Carlton at all. 

Carlton gestured to circular pedestal that had been placed on Jack's rug. Jack did as he was instructed and spent the better part of a half hour being measured in every which way. He was asked no questions, so he knew he would have no say in the clothes that were to be prepared for him. Once Jack's measurements were recorded, Carlton opened the trunk to reveal not only a tailor's supplies, but several compartments filled with clothing. Carlton sorted through the compartments and pulled out a complete outfit — shirt, jerkin, breeches, trousers, hose, and boots — and handed them to Jack. All of it was fairly plain, the trousers brown, the jerkin dark green, but the materials were at least soft under Jack's fingers.

"You shall dress in this for today," said Carlton. "I'll complete a few pieces for you by tomorrow, and we'll fill your wardrobe by week's end. Good day to you, Sir Knight."

"Thank you," said Jack. He stepped off the pedestal and turned away to dress. Carlton was gone by the time Jack finished, but as soon as he did, the physician arrived and Jack was asked to remove his trousers again. At least this time Jack could sit in his linen breeches, which came to mid-thigh.

The physician, Justin, was one of the more beautiful men in the king's employ. He was well-built and since his shirt only cupped his shoulders, Jack was able to see his muscular arms. Justin had warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile. Jack briefly wondered why he couldn't have proven his vitality with a man like this, rather than with the two guards, but he supposed the royal physician had more to do than fuck prospective concubines all day. 

"Explain to me what happened," Justin said after performing some basic examinations on Jack's knee, including watching him walk, sit, stand, and kneel. Justin's accent was familiar, similar to Jack's own; Jack wondered if his family also came from the northern region of the country. 

"It was back in December, not long before Christmas," said Jack. "I returned from a mission with some other knights when we heard a cry for help in the woods off the main road. A band of brigands had accosted a family riding horseback. The father was dead and the mother and teenage daughter were in a struggle with several men. My company immediately came to their defense and slaughtered the brigand band, but they were highly trained and heavily armed. I lost a brother in the fight and suffered the injury you see before you. I managed to slay the man who caused me such grief, but I had to be slung over my horse like a sack of barley and returned to the city in significant pain."

When Jack stopped speaking he noticed Delia wipe at her eye with one hand, the other on her chest in awe.

"That is quite honorable, Sir Knight," said Justin, "but I meant what specifically happened to your knee? Was it crushed? Cut? Broken?"

"Ah," said Jack, now embarrassed that he elaborated on the wrong parts of his tale. "I was hit in the knee with a war hammer. It broke my kneecap, the lower end of my femur, and tore a ligament."

"That explains the surgery. Who performed it?"

"It was the knight's doctor. I do not know his name. He performed the surgery the same day. He reset my kneecap and replaced my ligament with that of my fallen brother."

"Well, if he performed the surgery successfully, you should still be in the recovery phase. It takes at least a year for the joint to regain its full mobility. I am surprised that you are not still wearing your brace."

Jack pursed his lips together and did not respond.

"You did wear a brace, did you not?" Justin asked.

"No," said Jack, his voice quiet.

Justin's eyes narrowed in anger. 

"I was dismissed from my post after the surgery, and since I was no longer part of the brotherhood I was not permitted to see the doctor again. He told me to spend at least two weeks in bed, preferably the entire winter, and to only walk on it when I felt I was able to. He gave me a crutch but I don't use it —"

"You are lucky you can walk at all," said Justin. "I believe I know this doctor you speak of. Older man, no hair on his head and too much gray beard?" 

Jack nodded.

"I will speak with him today. There is no excuse for dismissing your care as he did. I will consult with the king on his preferred course of action, but it is my recommendation that we start at the beginning — perform a second surgery and give you the rehabilitation you should have had already. Are you in significant pain still?"

"No," said Jack. "It does not hurt to walk, but it does begin to ache if I walk too much. It always aches when it rains."

"I fear it will be an ache that will never truly settle, at least not when the weather changes. I will give you an elixir for the pain that you may take as needed."

Justin rummaged through his bag and extracted a bottle that he handed to Jack. Jack opened the lid and took a whiff; he quickly recognized the substance inside. "No more than a spoonful at a time. The less you take, the less likely you will grow accustomed to it. It may make you sleepy but should have no other adverse effects."

"My thanks," said Jack. He set the bottle on the table next to his bed and put his trousers back on. When the physician left, Delia nodded toward the door.

"Lunch is served, Sir Knight, if you wish to join us. The king will be eating in the main dining room as he tends to his daily affairs."

"Yes, thank you," said Jack. "I'll be there shortly."

"Certainly, Sir Knight," said Delia. She exited the room. Jack stared at the bottle on his table and then, with one swift motion, threw it out the window.

***

Jack lunched with the staff and began to wonder when he would see the king again. He had no idea what the daily duties of a king were, but he had to imagine they were exhausting and never-ending. He was ready to see Eric again, even just for dinner, but he had to admit he wanted much more. He was well rested and fed, and now at the point where he needed to see what the king looked like without clothes.

He did not get to see the king immediately, however. After lunch he received a haircut from the barber, and then the first delivery came: a small trunk of clothes and shoes that must have already been made and in his size. Delia insisted Jack change for his next appointment, but he found himself confused when he was handed a pair of riding boots.

"What is my next appointment?" he asked Delia.

"You're to meet Adam, our stableman."

"Stableman?" Jack asked. "I can no longer ride."

"The king insisted," said Delia, and so Jack descended the tower stairs, skirted around to the back of the castle, and exited via the kitchen. There were a few people milling about in the dusty courtyard the separated the gardens from the horses, but when Jack entered the stable, he was nowhere near alone.

The stable went on and on until it disappeared into a distant light, indicating the building was open at the other end as well. Children of various ages ran about, some with brooms, some with brushes, many dirty. Jack could tell from a glance which were pages and which were simple stableboys from their level of cleanliness. As he began to walk down the wide aisle, he was passed several times by someone upon a horse, either entering or leaving. The building was alight with chatter from the children as well as the neighing and whinnying of the animals, but Jack could hear a distinct voice drift down the main aisle, singing a song that Jack vaguely recognized as a tune from the players in town. He'd seen the show only once, but the melody was familiar and pleasant, as was the voice that sang it.

The stable surfaced many memories. It had been months since he'd last been on a horse, which used to be a daily activity. His beloved copper steed, Puck, had been reassigned. He had no reason to be near a horse, to groom one, or to feed one. As he passed stall after stall of beautiful animals, he'd forgotten how much he missed it.

He stopped in front of a copper colored horse, a mare named Chestnut. She had a white stripe down her snout, similar but not identical to Puck. He approached cautiously; he was a stranger to this horse and did not know her temperament. She was sweet, however, and nudged him before he touched her, demanding a pet. He ran his hand down the white stripe on her nose and scratched behind her ears, which moved constantly to deter flies.

"Sir Knight?"

Jack let go of Chestnut and quickly turned around. A young man, younger than Jack but older than the king, stood about ten feet away, dressed in riding boots and holding a crop. He was very tall and blond. "Ah yes, I thought that was you. Greetings, Sir Knight, I am Adam, the stableman," he said with a deep, unnecessary bow. "I am honored to be in your presence, for I have heard the balladeers sing your praises, _Sir Jack the Dragonslayer_."

Jack refrained from becoming defensive at the sound of Adam singing the titular line of a ballad Jack longed to forget. Jack instead returned a bow. "Good day to you," he said. "I heard you singing earlier. That is from the show in town, is it not? _Jeu de Robin et Marion?_ "

"You have seen it, Sir Knight?" Adam asked as a large smile spread across his face. Jack could not help but notice he had very large teeth; it suited a man of his profession.

"Just the once, a few months ago."

"I am impressed! The director of the theatre in town is a dear friend of mine. I have thought on occasion to switch professions but alas, I cannot deny myself the stability and income of a stablemaster for the king. He requested we select a mount for you."

Jack frowned as he glanced over his shoulder to Chestnut. His heart sank as he thought about attempting to ride her. "I cannot ride," he said. "My knee —"

"I heard. The king was quite insistent on it, so let us select regardless. I see you've taken a liking to Chestnut — she's a good one. Very sweet but swift. She's still young, only just four, but we haven't found her a master yet, so if you wish to take her under your wing, that would be agreeable. I've only taken her around the courtyard and into the fields a few times. She's still learning how to behave, but she's never thrown me."

Chestnut nudged Jack again and he put his hand on the side of her face as she sniffed his shoulder. Delia had put on more of that floral oil on his body, so he was certain the horse was searching for the source of the scent.

"I like her," said Jack.

"Then she's yours. Do you want to take her around the yard?"

"I…" Jack paused. "I can't."

"But you could lead her around? Give her a brush and feed her a bag?"

Jack looked up at Chestnut. She snorted into his neck and nudged him again. "I suppose I could," he said. Adam gestured to the stall door before he set off back toward the end of the stable, now whistling. Jack carefully opened the door. Chestnut allowed him to enter. She stood patiently while Jack brushed her head and secured her bridle. He didn't bother with a saddle, knowing he wouldn't dare attempt to mount her, and led her forward with one hand held upon the reins close to her bit. She kept his pace as they headed out of the stable and into the courtyard.

It was clear she wanted to run. As soon as they entered the courtyard she picked up the pace, but Jack held her back with a firm hand. She snorted again but slowed, and only tried one more time with the same result. He took her around the yard, as quickly as his legs would let him, but she never got up to a trot. He felt guilty; she was a beautiful animal. Her coat glistened in the sun. She took perfect steps. She let her wishes be known but respected him. He wanted to ride her at a fast gallop all the way down the countryside, to take her to a spring, let her drink, and bask in the sunlight of the warm day. He could do none of those things, and as her owner, she would be stuck in her stall until Adam or one of the boys exercised her.

"I should probably change my mind, huh?" Jack said to her as they stopped near the gardens. Chestnut ate a proffered carrot while Jack ran his hands along her muscular neck. "You're just a baby. You deserve a master who would put you to work and let you show off your speed. I'm just going to walk you about the yard every now and then."

Chestnut nudged him determinedly and he laughed as he offered her a second carrot. "I should take one of the geldings, or one of the retired mounts ready for pasture. I would be depriving you of your full potential." Chestnut stepped forward and stole another carrot from his bag. He laughed again. "It's a pity I like you so much," he said and rested his head against her neck, listening to her strong teeth crunch on the large carrot.

"'Tis a pity indeed, for I can see plainly that she likes you too," said a voice from behind. Jack turned and quickly bowed, his eyes lowered. "Be at ease, Sir Knight."

Jack stood straight and looked upon Queen Larissa, mounted on a pure white horse adorned with a purple blanket and golden accoutrements that bore the royal insignia. Her horse was gorgeous. The woman upon it was as well, although much different than Jack remembered — if it were not for the makeup of the horse, he would not have known this was the queen. She wore a man's riding outfit, leggings and boots and a jerkin over a shirt. She had shoulder-length black hair and painted her eyes thick with liner. She was small and slight, but from the way she held herself, Jack would have thought she to be taller than he.

From what the king had said at dinner the night before, the queen took no romantic interest in her husband, but it was still an odd feeling to stand before the wife of the man Jack had been hired to pleasure.

"I can see why my husband chose you," she said, addressing the obvious immediately. "You certainly are worth looking at, Sir Knight. I've heard tell of your deeds when you were with the High Court. I cannot say I know too many men who have slain a dragon."

"I was one of many on the mission," said Jack. "It could have been any of us who struck the blow. It just so happened it was me."

"Well, Sir Jack the Dragonslayer, regardless of your modesty, I graciously welcome you to Bittle Castle and hope that we may converse often. The king is frequently busy and my ladies in waiting are a bore. Perhaps we could take a ride tomorrow? Break in your new mare?"

"Ah, your majesty, I would that I could join you on such an outing, but I'm afraid I was wounded last winter and can no longer ride."

"That is a shame," she said. "Perhaps a walk in the garden, then?"

"That would be most agreeable," said Jack.

"Wonderful. I'll send for you after lunch. I look forward to getting to know you better."

"And you as well, your majesty."

Jack bowed again as the queen trotted toward the stable, where Adam waited to take her horse. The queen dismounted with incredible grace. While her posture exuded the stature of a taller woman, she was quite small, especially standing next to the stableman. Jack could not hear their speech, but they both laughed as Adam took the horse back into the stable, and the queen entered the castle through the kitchen.

***

Jack spent the majority of the afternoon in the stable with Chestnut. He cleaned her, brushed her, cleared her hooves and put on new shoes, and then swept her stall. He hadn't done any of this since he was a squire, but he still knew exactly what to do, and furthermore, he didn't want to leave his horse any sooner than necessary.

The sun was about to set and Jack was both dirty and sweaty when a page came running up to the stall, yelling, "Sir Knight, Sir Knight!"

Jack looked up. The boy was no more than seven, more than likely just beginning his page duties. The boy also looked like he was about to enter the stall uninvited, to which Jack put up a hand and said, "Halt there, young master, you must never enter a horse's stall without invitation, unless your aim is to be kicked in the face."

The small boy blushed and let go of the gate. "Forgive me, Sir Knight. Your attendant has asked you return to your room and prepare for dinner."

"Thank you, page," said Jack. The boy ran off as quickly as he approached. Just as Jack wiped the sweat from his brow, he heard a whinny and a shout from the courtyard, no doubt caused by the careless young boy. Jack approached Chestnut, who nudged him appreciatively. "I'll see you again soon, my girl." He pet her long neck and once down her snout before he left her stall. 

He'd been on his feet for hours and did not realize it until he stood at the base of the tower. He stared at the steps, which seemed to go on forever, and cursed himself for not taking an afternoon rest. With a long sigh, he began to climb the tower stairs and returned to his room, sweating anew.

"Sir Knight, you are filthy!" exclaimed Delia as soon as he entered his room. It was the sort of exclamation that made Jack feel like a child again; he accepted the feeling fondly. "What on earth have you been doing?"

"I was cleaning my horse's stall."

"We have stableboys who can do that. Turn around and march yourself right into the bathroom. You're going to have to wash in cold water; we don't have time to prepare a proper bath for you. Quickly, Sir Knight, the king wishes to dine at dusk."

Jack took a quick bath, as the water was indeed cold, and then dressed to Delia's specifications. She dabbed more floral oil on him before they left the bathroom. The sun was rapidly setting and the staff was busy lighting candles in the hallway. Jack expected to enter the dining room again, however Delia kept walking and stopped at the door at the end of the hallway. She opened the door and gestured Jack inside, but did not enter herself.

This was truly a room for a king; apart from the great hall, it was the largest that Jack had seen in the castle. Two hearths, each with roaring fires, kept the room warm. There was a sitting area near one hearth; two upholstered armchairs with matching ottomans were placed at the edge of a rug, a circular table between them. The centerpiece of the room was the gigantic bed, wide enough for several people to lie without touching, covered in what looked to be fine silks. The four posts reached all the way to the ceiling, and sheer curtains were drawn back on each side. There was an armoire on each side of the bed. By the other hearth was a rectangular dining table with only two chairs. The king sat at one.

"I see you've met with the wardrobe master," said Eric as he raised a goblet of wine to his lips. Jack looked down at his attire; Delia had put him in a blue patterned jerkin.

"I have," said Jack. 

"It's a little better. Come, sit."

Jack sat at the empty chair on the opposite side of Eric. There was a place setting in front of him but no plate. His water and wine goblets were full. The table was otherwise empty. "And you met with my physician, correct?" Eric asked.

Jack only nodded.

"What did he say?"

"He said he would consult with you," said Jack.

"Oh, damn," cursed Eric. "That doesn't sound like news I wish to hear."

"It's possible that I could still make a recovery, as this sort of surgery requires about a year to heal and it's only been a few months, but he was not pleased with my rehabilitation routine thus far."

"What is your routine now?"

"There isn't one."

"Ah. He's right, you should have one. Did he give you something for the pain?"

Jack forced a smile. "Yes."

"I certainly hope it will help, because I would very much like to take a ride with you this summer, and we can't do that if you can't even mount a horse. The stableman said you selected a mare — do you like her?"

"She looks a lot like my horse, Puck, from before I left the brotherhood," said Jack. "I like her."

"Puck?" Eric asked with a smile. It was more than a polite gesture; it lit up his entire face and Jack wished to see it more often. "What an unusual name."

"It is from Shakespeare. _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ 'How now, Spirit! Wither wander you?'"

Eric shook his head, although his smile remained. "I do not know that one. If it's been put on in town I'm afraid I have not seen it; the players are terrible."

"I must read it to you sometime," said Jack.

"Sometime. Not this evening, Sir Knight."

Jack looked at Eric's lips again, at the joyous smile that teased him incessantly. It disappeared, however, as the door opened and a member of the staff entered, carrying two plates. Jack recognized him from dinner the previous evening; he was tall and skinny, with a head of black hair and a wide, friendly smile. He set a plate in front of the king and the second in front of Jack. It was loaded with meat, potatoes, vegetables, and fruit, and a roll had been plopped on top of it. When Jack looked at the king's plate, it was mostly vegetables, rolls, and fruit, but there were the drumsticks from a chicken as well.

"Enjoy your meal," said the servant.

"Please leave us, Christopher," said Eric. "I'll call for you if needed."

Christopher left the room. Jack waited for Eric to take a bite; he shoved half a roll into his mouth. Jack began eating, starting with the potatoes, which were just as excellent that evening as they had been the night before. "So, Jack," began Eric after Jack had eaten through his potatoes, "I wish to discuss this with you. I think it would go best for the both of us if we were to have an open and candid dialogue about our… preferences."

"Our preferences?" Jack asked after swallowing a large bite. He chased it down with wine.

"Yes. What we like and don't like. I'd rather things go smoothly this evening and the easiest way to spoil that is to put something where the other person wasn't expecting it."

Jack hesitated. 

"What?" Eric asked.

"Well, your majesty — Eric. I was hired as your personal concubine. I was hired to cater to your wants and needs. I didn't think I was permitted preferences."

"I'm the king, Jack, not a tyrant," said Eric. "You're allowed to have preferences."

"I will need to think on that," said Jack. "Please tell me yours."

Eric sat back in his chair and raised a leg onto it. Jack glanced at it; this was the second time Eric had done this in Jack's presence, and Jack's heart skipped a beat as he thought more on it. It bent very easily. Jack wanted to know what other parts of the king bent that easily.

"I have _preferences,_ but I wouldn't say that I have limits," said Eric, and Jack watched his cheeks pinken as he thought of things that Jack wished to do to him. "I believe I like a little of everything, although some of it I will not know until I've tried it, or it's possible I will change my mind after someone of your stature does it."

Eric looked into Jack's eyes before he tipped his goblet into his mouth. Jack's throat went dry as he watched the king drink his wine, his Adam's apple bobbing in his thin neck as he did so. Jack quickly grabbed his water.

"So in terms of preferences," Eric continued, his cheeks considerably less pink after an entire goblet of wine, "I definitely want you inside of me."

Jack swallowed hard and tried not to cough at Eric's bluntness. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and set his water down on the table. "I did not expect you to say that, Eric," said Jack.

"Why not? Because I'm the king?"

"Yes."

"Well the king wants to be taken, and I'm very much looking forward to you doing it."

"As am I," said Jack, which caused Eric to smile again. "If you wanted to take me, though, you are welcome to do so."

"I'll think about it," said Eric and then he tossed his hand up in the air. "As far as the rest of it, I think whatever fits the moment will work for me. You might do something to me, I might do something to you… All of it is fair game for me."

Jack was hard and aching as the words left Eric's mouth. Jack still had half a plate to go but wanted nothing more to whisk it onto the floor and take Eric right there on the table. He kept control of himself, however, and returned his attention to his food. He took a bite and swallowed before he remembered the reason his position became available.

"And what about when we finish?" Jack asked. "What is your preference there? I know we need to save yours for the queen —"

"Not every time, though. My physician will let me know when we need to save it, and tonight is not one of those nights. Since I plan to be taken most often, it will be more than likely that I'll just have to finish wherever I am. As for you, Jack, I will allow it anywhere you want it, although I reserve the right to request it in a certain place."

"I'll ask," said Jack, "just to be sure."

"Aren't you the gentleman knight," said Eric with a laugh.

"What about kissing?" Jack asked.

"What about it?"

"Do you want to kiss? You hired me to satisfy you, Eric, but do you want to fuck or do you want to make love?"

"I think that depends on the mood," said Eric. "Tonight I want you to fuck me."

Jack tried not to shift as the word left Eric's lips, but he was aching.

"And you may kiss me, if you wish. I think there's room for that in either category."

Jack glanced at Eric's mouth; his lips were thin but it did not make Jack wish to kiss them any less. As he looked, Eric opened his mouth and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Jack nearly groaned and wondered when dinner would be over. Eric lowered his leg and leaned forward, supporting his chin with his fist. "One more question: do you plan to be loud, Jack?"

"Do you wish me to be loud?" Jack asked.

"Yes. Very much so."

"I must ask that you be loud with me," said Jack.

"There is no doubt in that."

Eric stared wistfully at him as Jack continued to eat. A minute or so passed before Eric spoke again. "You know, Sir Knight," he said with a huff and a drop of his fist. "I'm disappointed in you. We've been discussing mechanics and finishing and kissing and yet you are still over there eating your dinner instead of taking me."

Jack dropped his fork with a clatter, bolted out of his seat, and grabbed the king by the front of his jerkin. He pulled Eric right out of his chair and pressed their lips together. Eric was very light. It was easy to hold him, especially after Eric wrapped his legs around Jack's waist, allowing for better kissing. Eric was the first to open his mouth and touch their tongues together; Jack kissed him aggressively back. He opened one eye to see where he was going, then carried Eric to the bed and proceeded to throw him roughly onto it. Eric landed with a bounce and a laugh, but his laugh was silenced by Jack's mouth as Jack climbed atop him. 

Everything about the king was enchanting. He smelled earthy, like fresh wood on a fire, like being outside for the evening, like wandering the continent and seeing it in all of its majestic glory. He was light and small, but as Jack's hands began to wander Eric's body, Jack could feel strength in his arms and legs. Jack may have been able to carry him across the room, but there was no doubt that Eric could keep up with Jack all night, if they wished. Best of all, his skin was soft, warm, and ready.

Jack sat up, kneeling between Eric's open legs, and began to unfasten the king's jerkin. It had entirely too many buttons, but Jack made quick work of them, pulled the leather off, and threw it onto the floor behind him. Eric wore a thin linen shirt underneath it, large and loose on his body. Jack paused, looking over the expanse of soft fabric before he gently ran his fingers over Eric's chest, feeling the firmness of the hidden muscles underneath.

"So you wish to torture me, do you, Jack?" Eric asked after Jack ran his fingers up and down Eric's chest and then along his ribs.

"No," said Jack. "I just wish to admire you."

"It feels like torture."

Jack unlaced the collar of the shirt, causing a wide V to appear over Eric's chest. Jack touched the exposed skin only briefly before he slid his hands down Eric's body and to the hem, which had been tucked into his trousers. Jack removed the shirt and looked over Eric's bare chest, Jack's hands resting on Eric's waist. He was indeed thin, but he had strong shoulders and defined abs, albeit not as defined as Jack's. He had no hair. His necklace with a thick chain and the kingdom's sigil rested on his chest.

"You are beautiful," Jack said.

"You do not need to flatter me," said Eric. "I'm willing to fuck you."

"I'm not here to flatter," said Jack. "I know you're willing to fuck me."

Eric shut his mouth and took a deep breath, which Jack could feel under his hands. Jack moved on, unlacing the front of Eric's trousers. He tugged them down at the thighs and, to his great surprise, unleashed a fully erect cock that Jack would not have expected from a man of this size.

The corner of Jack's mouth tipped up into half of a smile. "And when were you going to mention this, _your majesty?_ " Jack asked as he wrapped one hand around the base of the king's cock.

"I wanted to see your face," said Eric.

"Was it as you expected?"

"Yes," said Eric with a smile. "Continue what you were doing, Jack, and take off your own clothes too. There's no reason for me to be alone in my nudity."

Jack pulled the king's trousers off his body and threw them onto the floor. He then stood and began to undress himself. Eric lifted himself onto his elbows, watching as each piece of Jack came into view, first his collarbones underneath the wide neck of his linen shirt, then his torso and arms, his feet underneath his boots, and finally his own erection, which was red and leaking.

Eric's smile grew as his eyes landed between Jack's legs, but just as quickly as it grew, it faded. Jack looked down in concern.

"You had hair yesterday, did you not?" Eric asked.

"Ah, yes," said Jack, relieved the concern was not serious. "It was removed."

"Why?" Eric demanded.

"I was told you wished it; my attendant said that you do not like hair." Jack gestured to Eric's nearly-hairless body. 

"On myself," said Eric with a huff. "I was perfectly fine with you how you were. Well, I don't know how I feel about this. Turn around."

Jack did as instructed. Eric sat up and placed his hands on Jack's ass, then spread the cheeks apart. Jack fought a blush, knowing what Eric was looking at. "Hmm," Eric said, his tone much gentler. "I do like this, though." Jack tensed, just slightly, when Eric brushed his fingers over Jack's hole. "I suppose we'll have to work with it. Turn back around and come here." 

Jack turned and gratefully climbed onto the bed again, pinning Eric beneath him, kissing him hard and beginning to grind their hips together, searching for the best angle to align their cocks. "Please don't make me come like this," Eric whined against Jack's mouth.

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Jack. He pulled back, slid down, and proceeded to lift and spread Eric's legs. As he imagined earlier, while still sitting at the dinner table, they spread wide with no resistance. Jack kissed down one leg, past Eric's knee onto his thigh, and then finally onto his erection, which Jack took in his mouth only briefly before he kissed down that as well and stopped at the king's hole.

"Unh, yes," moaned Eric loudly. "That's what I want."

Jack kissed him there for several minutes, Eric egging him on, grasping Jack's hair and moaning wildly, until Eric said, "Stop, stop, I want you in me."

Jack was about to ask for oil but Eric read his thought and gestured to the nightstand, where a bottle waited for just such an occasion. Jack coated his fingers and placed them in Eric; he was nearly ready from Jack's mouth, but Jack made no doubt that Eric would be able to take him. Finally, as Jack was fit to burst and Eric seemed the same, Jack pushed carefully in.

"Oh, fuck," said Eric at full volume. "Holy fuck you are big."

"Do you need me to stop?" Jack asked, hoping for a no as he was desperate to continue.

"No, please," said Eric. Jack continued to push in, carefully, and gave a gentle thrust, causing Eric to again swear loudly. Eric grabbed at Jack's back to pull him in closer, and so Jack propped himself above Eric on the bed and began to thrust. Eric moaned loudly, pulling Jack even closer, and closer, until Jack was pressed against him and fully seated inside of him. Eric kissed him hard. Jack thrust in earnest, capturing each of Eric's moans in his mouth.

It did not last much longer than that; Jack had been ready for the king long before this began, and as Jack felt his orgasm approaching, the king suddenly announced his own. Jack thrust through it until Eric collapsed, his arms and legs sprawled out in an X formation on the bed.

"Where do you want —"

"In me," said Eric immediately. Jack thrust just a few more times before he pushed in and began to come. He squeezed his eyes tight and put his face in Eric's neck, breathing hard, groaning, and grunting as his seed spilled out of him into Eric. Once finished, Jack opened his eyes and let out a deep breath. He made to sit up and remove himself, but Eric latched onto him with one arm. "No, please, stay."

Jack returned his face to Eric's neck and did not move.

"I think," panted Eric, "this was the best decision of my reign."

Jack laughed.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two warnings for this one: 
> 
> 1) Jack summarizes his encounter with the Ace of Spades (aka Kent Parson) and briefly touches on their history.  
> 2) Jack describes an act of violence. 
> 
> Are these warnings related? Read on to find out!

It was getting late; the sun had long since set and the events of the day were beginning to catch up with Jack. He did not dare rub his knee while in such proximity to the king, but he could feel it aching. He shifted onto his side, hoping it would help, and found Eric also on his side, looking back at Jack.

They looked at each other in complete silence. Jack searched for some kind of flaw on the king — a scar, a mole, a familial trait that should have not been passed on — but instead found nothing. Perhaps it was the flattering light from the candles, or perhaps it was post-coital peace, but Eric was beautiful and perfect. His hair draped well over his forehead, and after touching it Jack confirmed it was as soft as it looked. He had well-shaped eyebrows for his face, thin and not too long. His eyes were large and captured most of Jack's attention; his irises were dark brown, so much so that Jack had difficulty finding Eric's pupils. His eyelashes were long and curved, drawing Jack's attention when Eric blinked. His nose was just the right size for his face, small and curved up at the end. Jack had kissed it once already and fought the urge to break their peace to kiss it again. His lips were thin, yes, but they fit so well with Jack's, and his mouth opened wide enough to fit Jack into it. His skin was creamy and, currently, rosy over his cheeks and nose.

"What are you studying so intensely, Sir Knight?" Eric asked long into their silence.

"How is it that you have no flaws upon your face?" Jack replied, his voice a murmur. They were close to each other in the bed; there was no need to shout.

"I could ask you a similar question," said Eric.

Jack frowned. "That is not true." He brushed his finger along an old scar at his hairline. "I have plenty of flaws."

Eric reached out and ran his fingers along the scar. It gave Jack a shiver; the scar may have been old, but the wound it remembered ran deep, and Jack had not regained feeling over all of it. Eric smirked when Jack shivered but rested his hand against the side of Jack's face.

"I don't see any," Eric replied.

Jack placed his hand over Eric's. They stared at each other, both silent once again. Jack felt at ease, as if he could close his eyes and fall asleep with no effort. He did not attempt to, however; this was not his bed, and he did not know if Eric wanted him there for the night.

"Tell me more about you," Eric whispered. "I have heard rumors of your exploits, but I know so very little about who you are."

"My exploits are exaggerated by minstrels and townsfolk," said Jack. 

"How can you exaggerate the eradication of the Ace of Spades? He is a man who has plagued our lands for years."

Jack frowned, just slightly, but his proximity to the king meant he could not hide that it occurred. Eric moved closer, dropped his hand to Jack's side, and said, "Now you must tell me. Are you truly so humble or is there more to the story that you wish the balladeers not know?"

Jack sighed but looked the king in the eyes as he spoke. "It is true that I met him on one of my missions; I was only to deliver a message to the Duke of Gregory when my company stopped to make camp for the night. We entered the woods and found him there along with his second-at-arms. We recognized them immediately; they wore their spades with pride, so there was no mistaking them. They were well trained with a sword. I had a company of four to deliver the message, and the two spades murdered all of my men while the Ace only lost his second. The Ace and I sparred for an hour, at least, both of us growing weary. I had a few inches upon him, so I was able to best him in the end, but it was a significant fight."

"My, how you tell a story, Sir Knight," said Eric, his eyes wide. "And so you slew him there in the forest? I am so sorry for the loss of your men."

"They died fighting a formidable opponent," said Jack, and he lowered his eyes. "I did not slay him."

"Why ever not?" Eric asked, his voice loud. Jack looked back at him; Eric did not look angry as much as confused and surprised.

"His helmet fell off during our fight. I had him on the ground, my blade under his chin. He looked up at me, powerless to stop me and accepting his death, but… I knew him. He and I were squires together. He was never knighted and I had not seen him since I was, but I spent much time with him during my teenage years. I… Well, he was the first man I ever kissed."

"Is this to turn into a different kind of story?" Eric asked with an eyebrow raised.

Jack sighed. "No. There was no doubt that our history saved his life, but he was still an outlaw and a cad, and I did not wish to betray my oath in such a way. I had been briefed of his deeds for years — he was a marked man. I sat down next to his fire and asked him to explain himself. If he convinced me by dawn to let him go, I would let him go."

"And did he?" Eric asked.

"He did. He told me how he had expected to be knighted but was not, and explained his ire and resentment because of this. He then told me a tale of a difficult childhood, a quest to prove his worth, and a desire to change his ways. I believed him. When dawn broke, he stopped speaking and looked to the east as if it were his executioner. I stood and declared him banished. If he were to return, it would mean his death."

"And you let him go? He already had a sentence of death upon him, and you as a Knight of the High Court should have carried out that sentence."

"I should have," said Jack. "I did not. I instead banished him, but not before I ensured he would cause no harm again."

Eric inhaled sharply, his entire body alight with curiosity. "What did you do?"

"I took his hands." 

"Oh, goodness," said Eric.

"I took both hands, sealed the ends with fire, and placed him on his horse. He had a good amount of gold from his previous exploits, so I let him keep enough to make a new life and sent him on his way. I did not hear of him again."

"That was a noble thing you did, Sir Knight. It was against my wishes, but noble nonetheless. I do not know many knights who can show mercy when faced with such a foe, especially after that foe slaughtered his companions."

"It was not mercy," Jack murmured. "It was weakness."

"It was still mercy," said Eric. He moved closer to Jack, his nose to Jack's chest, which he nuzzled. "I approve of your decision. I am a king of peace, Sir Knight; I do not think I would have been able to carry out the punishment if I had run across the Ace in my travels, especially if he was someone I knew so intimately in my past."

They settled into silence again.

"Sir Knight," Eric whispered as Jack's eyes began to close. Jack opened his eyes and shifted closer to the king. "You must tell me, honestly — was it obvious that I was nervous?"

"Not at all," said Jack with a smile, which Eric returned. It was a beautiful smile. "In fact, you seemed quite confident in your decisions and actions."

"Hmm, that is good to know," said Eric as he brought a finger to his lip, as if reflecting on their evening. "It is no secret you are not my first lover, or, at least, you are not the first man who has been inside of me, but… but you are the first I've had in my bed. I know I hired you to please me, but I wish you please you as well."

"You have. Most certainly," said Jack. 

Eric smiled, but less radiantly. This expression may have not held the intensity that an Eric mid-laugh would have, but Jack could still feel its warmth. "Stay with me?" Eric asked, his request a whisper.

"Yes."

***

Jack awoke suddenly the following morning. Sleep came easy to him in the comfort of the king's bed, but Eric was a busy man, and the door opened at dawn. Jack opened his eyes and looked to the door; Christopher had entered and already began to draw the curtains. Beside Jack, Eric slowly sat up.

"What time is it?" Eric asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"Your majesty, it is dawn, and the duke is here to discuss the sanitation incident in Faber."

"Oh, fine," grumbled Eric as he fell back onto the bed. "Bring in breakfast and give us a minute to awaken."

The door shut again and Eric turned to Jack, planting a kiss firmly on his lips. "The duke awaits," said Jack with a smile as Eric reached between Jack's legs and began to stroke him into hardness.

"The duke can wait until _after_ you fuck me."

If Christopher returned while they were fucking, he did not interrupt. Once both finished, Eric threw Jack's breeches at him and Jack pulled them on, but the king dressed in a robe before he sat at the table. It was chilly; the fires had gone out overnight and no one had been allowed inside to rekindle them. Christopher returned with breakfast, which Jack and Eric ate quickly. Eric dismissed Jack with a promise to see him again later, and Jack returned to his room. 

He had a late morning walk scheduled with the queen in the gardens, so he was dressed accordingly and sent down to the courtyard soon after breakfast. He stopped briefly by Adam to mention the appointment and convey he would be in with Chestnut if needed. Chestnut was pleased to see him, so he led her around the courtyard and down to the river, although he wished he could have done more. When he and Chestnut returned, the queen was just entering the courtyard. Although they were taking a stroll through the royal gardens, the queen was once again dressed in trousers. Jack wondered if this was her usual attire.

"Right on time, Sir Knight," said the queen. 

Jack handed Chestnut off to a stableboy and approached the queen. He gave her a quick bow and offered his arm, which she took. The queen led them into the garden, saying nothing along the way. Jack knew better than to speak out of turn, so he enjoyed the solitude the tall hedges provided as well as the view of the flowers that were now beginning to bloom. They'd taken an entire lap before he realized they had not yet said a word.

The queen directed him to take another lap rather than end their meeting, and finally spoke. "I hope my invitation did not cause you worry," she said. "My intention is to clear the air between us rather than to intimidate you. I have been told, even prior to my marriage to the king, that I tend to be intimidating."

"I fortunately have been too busy to allow my thoughts to turn toward worry," said Jack, "however I am curious on your intent to meet with me, as well as to hear your opinion on my position."

"I can tell you now, my opinion of your position is quite high. I've told Bitty for years that he should hire a concubine rather than sneak beyond the castle walls to visit the Swallow, and it seems he has finally listened to me."

"Bitty?" Jack asked.

The queen smiled. "The advantage of knowing him since infancy. Prince Eric of Bittle Castle was always just Bitty to me."

"I like it," said Jack.

"You should try it out and tell me how it goes. Those of us who have known him long call him such when we are permitted to be informal. To answer your other question, Sir Knight, I wanted to meet you to ensure you are aware that I approve of your relationship with the king. Bitty is my dearest friend. He has always been that for me. However, he does not desire women and I love Lord Byron. Bitty is my husband because we needed to unite our two kingdoms. Having a child would only solidify that union, and since we in no way wish to conceive naturally, this is the best course of action." 

The queen looked up at Jack; as he had expected the day before, she was quite small next to him, the top of her head reaching his chest. "I hope that we may become friends," she said.

"I would like that," he replied.

They were quiet again until they reached the entrance to the courtyard. "One more?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Tell me about him," Jack said, causing the queen to smile.

"I could speak forever," she began, "which is actually quite unlike me. I feel as though I have spoken more words today than I have yet this week."

"I could listen forever," said Jack, which prompted the queen to look up at him again.

"Be careful, Sir Knight, you have known him but a day."

"It is my duty," said Jack.

"That is true. It is your duty," replied the queen. "Let me tell you this, then: your king was a precocious child who never learned to stop talking and always had something to do. He is proficient in all the things a young prince is required to learn — riding, reading, writing, history, economics, and politics, as well as etiquette and decorum — although getting him to follow decorum is at times quite difficult. He is an excellent archer but a terrible fencer. If he were to go into battle he would need to do it from afar because in hand-to-hand combat, he is much too nervous to strike or defend."

"You speak as though you have personal experience with this," said Jack.

"I may have poked him a time or two in our youth, yes," said the queen with a laugh. "So while Bitty is proficient in the skills he was required to learn, he has a few passions which are unique to someone in his position. We were very young when the King and Queen hosted a circus troupe for Bitty's birthday, and he fell in love with it. After much discussion and many tantrums, the King and Queen agreed to send him away for a summer to Madison, where he learned how to do many tricks that he has no use for today. He can flip himself over in a number of creative ways, can walk a tight rope, and can spin on a hoop in the air without making himself dizzy. It's impressive to watch, but I doubt anyone would see the benefit now that his days are filled with negotiations and tactics."

 _I can certainly see the benefit of his flexibility,_ Jack thought.

"He also has a love of cooking. Well, baking, specifically. He could cook anything you put in front of him, but he finds pure joy from putting together dessert. His schedule rarely allows for it now, but he still takes the time when he can to bake a pie or a batch of sweets for us. His truffles are from another world. I always get them for my birthday, at least, and I'm insisting he send them for our anniversary from now on."

"I tasted a pie of his the first night we dined together. It was delicious."

"It always is. I'm sure he'll eventually make something that will buckle your knees, and when you find it, he will always remember to make it for you on your most special of occasions. He is very thoughtful that way. That is one of his greatest qualities as a king, I would say. He is generous and selfless. If we lived in a lesser kingdom, it would be his downfall."

"As a citizen of this kingdom, I have felt the affects of that generosity. The people want for nothing, even the poorest of the souls in the city and in the fields."

"His people are his first priority. It was something his mother instilled in him before she died: you are only a king if you have people to rule. If they are unhappy, they will leave or they will riot. You cannot be happy if they are not, so put their happiness before your own."

Jack remembered the teenager who held a sword to his shoulder and spoke the traditional ceremony of knighthood. He remembered how lucky he was to have been there at all.

They approached the front of the garden again. The queen let go of Jack's arm and looked up at him again. "I'm due for lunch with my ladies," she said. "I hope we can do this again soon."

"I would be happy to, my queen," said Jack.

"When it is just the two of us, Jack, you may call me Larissa."

Jack smiled.

***

Jack spent the afternoon in his armchair with a book from his shelf. He was not sure if the book was fiction, but it told the exciting tale of a conquering emperor some one thousand years prior. Jack especially enjoyed the subplot of the emperor's favorite soldier. It was an unexpected twist in a novel Jack had selected with no thought.

He reluctantly set his book down to dine with the staff; he was disappointed that the king had dinner plans, but it gave him time to get to know the other residents of the tower. Christopher and Caitlin, who had recently wed, were in charge of the entire staff; Christopher, the butler, was in charge of the underbutlers, footmen, and casual staff, Caitlin the chambermaid was in charge of the cooks and housemaid, as well as Delia. At first Jack did not understand why there needed to be so many, eleven in all, but it appeared everyone had something to do.

Will and Derek, the underbutlers, served mostly in the dining hall and assisted April and March, the tower cooks. Jack had not seen the tower kitchen but considering the amount of food that came out of it, he was not surprised that just this part of the castle employed two cooks. As Jack sat beside them, he heard Will and Derek arguing about watermarks on the cutlery, and he wondered if he had picked the wrong seat, because it was possible that one of them would be stabbed before the meal was through.

There was Connor the footman, who was essentially an aid to Christopher. Connor did not speak much and Jack got the understanding that Connor did not necessarily care for his position, but Connor also did not outwardly complain or cast demeaning looks, unlike Carlton the wardrobe master.

The casual staff included Tony and his cousin, a man whose name Jack had yet to learn but was easily recognizable by a long scar down his cheek. Tony was still rather young, so he seemed more a page than anything else, but his cousin was gifted in general contracting, and along with Denice the housemaid, was able to keep the tower in good working order. 

Overall Jack liked the tower staff; they were clearly comfortable with each other, loud and boisterous and not at all proper, and it was a relief to sit among them without having to worry of etiquette. Jack did not say much during dinner, eager to return to his book, but bid them a pleasant farewell before he returned to his room, full to the brim and ready to settle for the evening.

He did not settle for long. He was barely into the next chapter when the door opened and in came the king, still dressed for dinner with his crown and cape. Jack looked to the door but when it shut, he said, "Eric, I was not expecting —"

Eric silenced him by straddling Jack's legs and kissing him firmly on the mouth. Jack dropped his book onto the floor and only had enough time for one thought before Eric touched him: he did not mark his place in the book and did not remember what chapter he was on. That, and all other thoughts, disappeared from his head as Eric stroked him through his trousers, still kissing him hard. Jack moaned against Eric's mouth, causing Eric to let go and press his forehead against Jack's. Jack could feel the weight of Eric's crown against his head but, more importantly, could hear Eric's sweet breath as he said, "I want you."

"You have me," said Jack.

"Do you know how difficult today was?" Eric asked, his eyes still closed when Jack peeked. He was rubbing Jack with full intent, but had yet to progress further. "I had to sit through hours of meetings on sewer cleanups and state taxes and boring discourse when all I wanted to do was come up here and suck your cock."

Jack whined; all he wanted was for Eric to suck his cock.

"Do you know how hard it was to listen to a table full of accountants squabble over a quarter of a percent while I thought about you and this?" Eric wrapped his hand around Jack, gripping him tightly.

Jack whined again. "Eric," he whispered. "Please…"

Eric slid off Jack's lap and unlaced his trousers in a flash. He took Jack's cock in his mouth as soon as it was free, and Jack melted into his chair, his hands dangling off the sides, his spine loose and curved into the shape of the chair, his legs wide and relaxed. Eric had not sucked his cock the night before and was surprisingly good at it. Jack knew he was well endowed and thus had his share of unspectacular blowjobs, but Eric could suck him deep, suck him hard, and suck him long. 

"Fuck, Bitty —"

Eric popped off Jack's cock and Jack's eyes opened. He hid a smile; Eric had not even removed his crown. He also wore a surprised expression.

"What did you call me?" Eric asked.

"Bitty," said Jack, although with much less confidence than when he was in Eric's mouth.

Eric pressed his lips together. "You've been talking to my wife."

"She may have given me a few details about your childhood," said Jack with a smile. "I was wondering how you bend so easily."

Eric wrapped his hand around Jack's cock and gave it a stroke. "And what else did she tell you?"

"I cannot think of anything more when I am desperate for your mouth," said Jack. Eric scrunched his nose, more out of what Jack could only consider sibling rivalry than anything else. "Am I permitted to call you Bitty?" Jack asked.

"Yes," said Eric.

"Do you prefer Eric?"

Eric shook his head. "No. Only the people who care most for me call me Bitty. You may use it if you're prepared to consider yourself one of those people."

"Please continue, Bitty," said Jack, and so Bitty did.

They spent the night in Jack's bed, too consumed with each other to go anywhere else. At Jack's request, Bitty wore his crown until they tired each other out. Bitty then threw it onto the floor with his clothes; it hit the ground with a deep thud, which surprised Jack. "How heavy is that thing?"

"Heavy enough to give me headaches over the years of my reign. I think I'm finally used to it. I'd get a smaller one, but it's been in the family for at least a dozen generations."

"And you just threw it onto the floor."

"It's a tradition, not an heirloom. It's only gold." Bitty turned to Jack and rested his crownless head on Jack's chest. Bitty now faced the window, and with it, the portrait of Jack's family. "Is that you and your parents?"

Jack looked over at the portrait and sighed. "Yes."

"From your sigh I'm led to believe that they are no longer alive."

"No," said Jack. "They died in the great fire."

"So did my mother," said Bitty. Jack turned back to him; Bitty's gaze was distant and morose. Jack began to run his fingers along the skin of Bitty's back, which at the very least drew his attention from the expanse of nothing he had been staring into. 

"I thought the fire did not reach the castle?" Jack asked.

"It didn't. My mother went into town to help. She did not return."

"My parents did not make it out of their home. I was away on a mission. This portrait was all that I could salvage from the wreckage, although it was black with soot. I spent an entire month's pay to have it restored."

"It looks as though it never saw such a disaster," said Bitty. "How old were you when this was commissioned?"

Jack stared at himself in the painting. He was not fond of his appearance as a youth and was pleased that this portrait, a flattering depiction of him, was the only likeness he had of himself from that time. His father looked very much like his father, dressed in the garb all Knights of the High Court wore at that time. His mother looked unlike herself, her eyes too narrow, her hair too ashy when Jack remembered it to be the color of the sun. "Seven," Jack said. "I was just about to leave home to begin my page duties." 

"Your father was a knight too, was he not? He's in the uniform my father's knights wore."

"He was. Your father knighted him."

"He looks familiar. What was his post?" Bitty asked.

Jack stiffened, just briefly, and stretched as a means to hide it. Bitty rearranged his head on Jack's chest when Jack settled again. "He was a liaison with the Faber region. When he was in town he mostly interacted with the Lord of State."

"That was your post too, was it not?"

"Similar. I went wherever needed; my father traveled exclusively to Faber."

"Ah, yes, because you, Sir Dragonslayer, eradicated the cranberry farms of their dangerous pest." Bitty lifted his head, resting his chin gently on Jack's chest, and smiled at him. "Why did I not bestow upon you an award for bravery and valor? I don't recall ever meeting you before, and I heard nothing of this legendary tale until your commander regaled me with a summary of your days with the brotherhood."

"Lord Byron bestowed the honor upon me," said Jack. "There was a feast in the town square. I do not know where you were."

"I bet I would have loved to look upon you," said Bitty and he raised to his knees, holding an imaginary sword in his hand. "I would have had you kneel at my feet and I would have laid my sword upon your shoulder and said 'Brave Sir Knight, you have done great deeds for your country. Now it is time for you to do great deeds for your king, who wishes you to fuck him right here in the courtyard.'"

Jack burst into laughter and Bitty did too, collapsing onto Jack's chest again, holding him tightly around the waist. "I would have done it too," said Jack. "Right in front of everyone."

"Have you no shame, Sir Knight?" Bitty asked.

"Says the man who asked me to perform several sexual acts in front of his entire guard."

"It wasn't the _entire_ guard."

"Oh, excuse me, your majesty," said Jack, eliciting another laugh from Bitty, who climbed atop Jack and kissed him. "Is it time for me to do great deeds for my king?"

"It is," said Bitty, "and when we are through I wish very much to fall asleep in your safe, secure arms, Sir Jack the Dragonslayer."

"I may no longer be part of the brotherhood, but my oath to protect my liege follows me until my death."

"Let us hope that is many long years from now," whispered Bitty, who kissed Jack again.


	6. Chapter Five

Jack awoke the next morning when the door opened and Delia entered. She set a breakfast tray on the table next to Jack's armchair and turned to the bed. She proceeded to let out a loud gasp and bowed deeply when Bitty sat up. 

"Your majesty, I did not know you were in here," said Delia, her voice desperate with apology.

"Calm yourself, dear lady. I gave no indication that I would be spending the night in this room. Please have Christopher bring my breakfast in here as well."

"Yes, your majesty," said Delia and she hurried away. Bitty flopped back onto the bed and yawned loudly. Jack watched his mouth expand; it was unnecessarily alluring. When Bitty opened his eyes, he looked at Jack, who was staring.

"What?" Bitty asked.

"Just looking."

"If you look a moment longer, Sir Knight, I will have to fuck you, and I fear your poor attendant will faint if she catches us in the act."

Jack reluctantly lay back in the bed. A moment later Delia did enter again, this time with Christopher, and Jack and Bitty were served in bed. Unfortunately nothing further occurred before Bitty had to leave to attend to the first business of the day, but Jack did receive a nice kiss before he left. Jack turned to Delia once Bitty, wrapped up in his cape, departed the room with Christopher.

"Do I have any appointments this morning?" he asked.

"No, not this morning," she replied.

He lay back down on the bed. "Then leave me, please." Delia took his tray out of the room and left him in peace. Once she was gone he took himself in hand — he would have to remember next time to ask Bitty to wear his cape in addition to his crown.

When Jack was ready to be awake, he bathed and dressed, then went to the stables to see Chestnut again. The day was warm and dry, no clouds to be seen in the majestic blue sky above, so he felt well enough to run Chestnut down to the river. She was delighted to be able to trot alongside him, but he still felt guilty that he could not give her more. He stopped at the river, a bit out of breath, and sat among the tall grass while Chestnut drank. She began to roam, but when she went too far, Jack whistled and she immediately returned to him. She lowered her head and nudged him; he knew better than to mistake it for affection. She could smell the carrots in his pouch and wanted a reward for coming at his signal, so he offered her one and she ate it quickly before she returned to the river.

It was a beautiful day. It was the kind of warm and bright morning that demanded time outside, so Jack lay among the grass, staring up at the sky and searching for clouds as Chestnut roamed around him. He did not know how long they were out there, but he let his thoughts go where they pleased, and checked in on Chestnut often. She did not stray far again.

He was not surprised that his thoughts circled back to Bitty. This position was meant to be just a position, a way to ensure he did not sink into poverty due to his lingering injury. He would have been happy with any job, but he did not expect to feel so deeply for the man he had been assigned to please. Bitty was a king loved by his people, but furthermore, was a king loved by those close to him. Larissa spoke highly of him. Larissa was happy that Jack was there to fulfill a need that she could not. Bitty had delightful surprises in his past, and the more that Jack learned, the more he wished to stay.

That was a silly thought, however, as he was hired as a whore — no fancy titles or beautiful rooms could disguise that fact. 

Jack sat up at the sound of hooves. The riverside had been quiet the entire morning, nothing more than occasional breezes or snorts from Chestnut as she searched the grass. Adam approached at a canter, so Jack stood and held to Chestnut's reins to ensure she did not spook and run. He would not have been able to catch her.

"Sir Knight!" called Adam as he approached, and slowed his horse to a walk. "Sir Knight, we have been searching for you. You are late to an appointment with the master of wardrobes."

"I was told I had no appointments this morning," said Jack.

"I'm just relaying a message, Sir Knight, but it's past noon and we at the stables have lunched already."

"I'll return immediately, Adam. Go on ahead and send my apologies to the master of wardrobes."

Adam turned and cantered back toward the castle. Jack tugged on Chestnut's reins and they trotted back. Once in the courtyard, Jack handed Chestnut to a stableboy before he hurried inside. His knee, surprisingly, felt fine after the long run to the river and back, so he made his way quickly through the castle and up the tower stairs. Carlton was waiting impatiently in Jack's room.

"Apologies, Master Carlton, I was unaware of this appointment."

"There's no time for apologies, Sir Knight, so make haste upon the pedestal and change your clothes. I have many alterations to make before the feast tomorrow eve and I have lost precious time in waiting for you."

Jack did not hide the irritation on his face, but did as requested. The garments that Carlton put him in were much more beautiful than anything Jack had worn in his life. The shirt was silky and smooth, of much finer quality than Jack's everyday shirts. Instead of a jerkin he was given a dark blue doublet embroidered with gold thread in intricate designs from cuff to collar as well as down the front. The buttons alone could have paid for a year's worth of food. Jack felt a little silly in such a grand jacket, but after fastening it to the neck, he realized he had no idea why he was wearing it.

"You said there was a feast tomorrow?" Jack asked.

"Yes, for the king's birthday. He changed the theme much too late, if you ask me, and I had to redo costumes for twenty lords and ladies, not including the staff, and of course, the addition of you." Carlton checked the width of the doublet at Jack's waist and grumbled as he pinned it in a bit on either side. "Why he felt the need to invite his concubine to a feast for the High Court makes no sense to me —"

Carlton said it under his breath, but his proximity to Jack meant that every word was clear. Jack exhaled sharply but Carlton did not react. 

Apart from the waist of the doublet, the outfit fit well, so Jack quickly removed it and Carlton was on his way. Jack redressed in his usual attire as Delia entered the room with lunch. 

"That was my fault, Sir Knight," said Delia as she set a tray on Jack's table. "I knew he would want to fit you at some point this afternoon, but he arrived with little warning while you were still down by the river."

"I perceive that he does not much care for me," said Jack. He sat next to the table, picked a pepper from the tray, and popped it into his mouth.

"He needs to keep his opinions to himself," said Delia with a huff.

"Delia."

"Yes, Sir Knight?"

"Do you care for me?"

Delia smiled at him. "Of course I do, Sir Knight. It may have only been a few days, but you have made the king very happy, and that makes me very happy. Unlike some of the staff here in the castle I have no objection to the presence of a concubine in our tower. I think some of them are just a little too old-fashioned, if you ask me. What are we to do? Let our king and queen go childless? Refuse to respect our king's happiness? Posh."

She filled his water goblet and set the jug on the table. "May I assist with anything else?" she asked.

"Yes, just one thing: what should I get the king for his birthday?"

"Oh, Sir Knight, the king is very against presents. I would recommend that you provide him a heartfelt wish of happiness and prosperity and, well, do what you do otherwise."

Jack smiled as Delia began to blush. "Thank you, Delia."

Delia left the room and Jack picked up his knife to cut into the mincemeat pie. He paused, looking at it, and realized just what he was going to give the king for his birthday, regardless of his wishes. 

***

That evening after dinner Jack was called to the king's chambers. Unlike the previous night, where they quickly engaged with each other, Jack undressed and entered the king's bed without any sense of urgency. Jack settled his arm on Bitty's bare waist and rested his face in Bitty's neck, but did not progress further from there. Bitty did not push either, simply lying in the bed, breathing softly and deeply, his hand atop Jack's at his waist.

"You did not tell me your birthday is tomorrow," said Jack softly into Bitty's neck. Bitty's body jostled with a quick laugh.

"That is on you, Sir Knight. My birthday is a national holiday."

"I am usually on the road in May. I have not been able to celebrate such a holiday."

Bitty turned his head and pressed his lips against the scar on Jack's hairline. Jack could barely feel it, which made it all the more enticing when he closed his eyes and sensed the ghost of a Bitty's kiss. "We shall celebrate merrily tomorrow, my sweet," he whispered.

Jack smiled. It was the first endearment apart from _Sir Knight_ that he had been granted, and it filled him with warmth. 

They celebrated calmly that evening, with gentle caresses and lazy touches, neither in a hurry to progress to something more than an embrace under soft sheets. It was quiet in the tower, another clear, warm night to complement the day. A gentle breeze could be heard in the trees outside, so Jack opened his eyes only to see what looked like parchment flapping by the window. It was an odd sort of flap; the parchment was not caught in the breeze nor was it falling in a peculiar manner. It flapped back and forth as though tethered to something, but there was nothing but the open window. Upon staring further at it, Jack realized it had been pinned in place, but to what it was pinned, Jack could not guess.

"There is parchment fluttering in your window," said Jack.

Bitty looked over. "Oh, that is from the queen. Can you get it for me?"

Jack did not believe in magic, for time and time again it proved to be an illusion rather than the work of some mysterious force, but he wondered what magic held the parchment in place until he approached the window and realized the note had been pinned to a string, so thin it disappeared from sight at arm's length. Upon further inspection, Jack discovered an entire device set up in the room; there were two lines in total, wrapped around a pulley that had been attached to the sill. When he looked out the window, Jack could see directly into a window in the Queen's Tower, where the other pulley must have been placed.

Jack returned to the bed and handed the note to Bitty, who unfolded it and smiled. He looked over to Jack.

"What say you to a midnight snack with the queen and Lord Byron?"

"I'd say I need to work up an appetite."

"Send a reply to Larissa and keep the desires of your cock out of it, Sir Knight," said Bitty as he handed Jack the note. Jack looked at it.

_Fancy a snack at midnight with Byron and I? Bring your Knight with you. - LB_

Jack stared at the signature. The L was loopy on the bottom but not on top, and it connected directly to the top of the B. He'd seen these initials elsewhere, and it was not until he had written a reply and pinned it back to the line when he realized where: it was the same signature that had been written on all of the paintings in the King's Tower. 

He gently pushed the note forward on the line; it moved easily and silently. Jack watched it until it disappeared into the window of the other tower. He returned to the bed and climbed atop Bitty, who kissed him hard, ready to work up his appetite. 

They entered the kitchens as the half moon reached high into the sky. It was dark in the kitchens, as it had been in most of the castle, but Jack led the way with a candelabra, which he sat on the table once they entered. There was another candelabra in the room already, illuminating Lord Byron, the advisor who led Jack's audience, and Larissa at his side. Larissa wore a robe similar to Bitty's, while Lord Byron wore nothing but a pair of breeches that reached his shins. Jack had redressed in his trousers and shirt, although he had not tucked in his shirt or bothered to lace it, nor had he bothered with shoes. It was quite freeing to be able to walk about the castle dressed thusly, although he was not as comfortable as Lord Byron.

Bitty trotted forward and greeted Larissa with a kiss on the cheek, which she returned. Lord Byron clapped Bitty hard on the back and then stepped forward to shake Jack's hand. "Jack, you bastard, I am so glad the king selected you. With all sincerity, sir, you have the largest cock I have ever seen."

"Thank you," said Jack, surprised by Lord Byron's considerable lack of decorum compared to the last time they had met.

"Byron, must you bring up his cock within ten seconds of meeting him?" asked Larissa with an eye roll.

"Yes," said Byron. "It's worth mentioning as often as we can."

"If you're just going to be rude, we're going back to bed," said Bitty as he opened a cupboard to rummage for food.

"I'm not being rude, I'm stating my appreciation for the man!" yelled Byron.

"Sure," said Bitty passively. "Are there leftovers from dinner? The rolls tonight were amazing." 

"Have you ever had a roll you found to not be amazing?" asked Larissa.

"No," said Bitty. "It doesn't make it any less true, though."

Jack watched the interaction between the three with great interest. It was clear that they had known each other intimately for a long time. There was no decorum at all here. There was no attempt at titles, at pleasantries, or for proper behavior. Bitty climbed on top of a chair to see the top of the cupboard, Byron cleaned his nails with his teeth, and Larissa sat atop a table. Jack felt out of place and longed to have this deep a connection with others. He kept in contact with none of his former brothers from the High Court.

A sudden melodic bonging surprised Jack and he jumped, but he was not the only one.

"CHRIST, I forgot how loud that thing is," yelled Larissa, her hand to her chest in surprise. No one moved until the melody ended, followed by twelve additional bongs to indicate the hour. Larissa jumped down off the table and over to Bitty, who had found a roll and was munching on it.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOUR MAJESTY!" she announced and bowed to him.

Bitty rolled his eyes. "You can't 'majesty' me if you're a 'your majesty' too!"

"My apologies, _your majesty,_ " said Larissa with the utmost pomp and circumstance, and she bowed even lower. 

"Why the blazes did I marry you?" Bitty asked and Larissa laughed before she kissed him on the cheek again.

"Because I am your best friend," she replied, then she hopped back over to the table and climbed upon it again, allowing Byron to repeat the same sarcastic bow. Bitty groaned and aimed a kick at Byron, who dodged out of the way.

Byron and Larissa looked at Jack, who shrugged his shoulders and approached Bitty as well. "Don't feel obligated to follow the customs of these hoodlums, Jack. They are both silly and impertinent." 

Jack ignored him. "Happy birthday, your esteemed majesty," he said in a loud, booming voice, and bowed low. When Jack stood up he planted a long kiss on Bitty's lips, causing both Byron and Larissa to holler. When he let go, Bitty was blushing.

"Oh stop it," Bitty said, pushing Jack roughly away. "What are we going to eat? There were only three rolls and I've devoured them already."

"I saw something earlier that I think we should eat," said Jack suddenly, and he darted off to the larder. Despite the warmth of the kitchen, the larder was still relatively cool, which was perfect for Jack to store the doughnuts he had made that afternoon. They were meant to be a surprise for the king after his birthday feast, but this seemed like a much more appropriate time.

"What is this?" Bitty squealed when Jack brought the tray out to the table where Larissa sat.

"I made these for you," said Jack.

"WHAT?" Bitty squealed again, his hands at his mouth. "How do you know how to make these, Jack?"

Jack smiled. "My mother and I used to make these when I was a child. It's been many years so they may not taste quite like they would had I made them back then, but I think they will be all right. These on this side are filled with strawberry compote —" Bitty squealed a third time into his hands. "— and these are filled with cream. We should definitely eat the cream ones tonight, they feel a little warm to last through the day tomorrow."

Larissa and Byron immediately snatched one from the tray but Bitty, near tears, jumped into Jack's arms and kissed him. Jack shifted, surprised at the sudden weight, but held Bitty underneath his seat, Bitty's legs wrapped tightly around him. "I cannot believe you did this for me," Bitty said quietly, only for Jack to hear. Byron and Larissa were munching loudly by the table.

"You need to taste one and tell me if you like it."

"I'm not moving," said Bitty. "You'll have to feed it to me."

Jack carried Bitty to the table and set him down on the edge of it before he picked one of the strawberry compote doughnuts from the tray and brought it to Bitty's mouth. Bitty took a large bite and immediately moaned in delight at the taste of it.

"Good?" Jack asked. 

"Mmm, yes," said Bitty and he opened his mouth for another bite. Jack fed him the entire doughnut and Bitty demanded a cream one next, which he devoured quickly. Once it was gone, Bitty kissed Jack again, hard and long, then held him close. Jack, surprised by the affection, glanced over at Byron and Larissa, who were smiling at him. Bitty began to kiss his neck, stirring desire low in Jack's belly, and then brought his lips to Jack's ear. "I want you right now."

"Do you want to go back upstairs?" Jack asked.

Bitty shook his head and looked at Byron and Larissa, who each grabbed a doughnut in both hands and then scurried out of the room, leaving Jack and Bitty alone. Bitty did not even wait for their exit before he kissed Jack again and brought his hand to the front of Jack's trousers. The trousers were off in a flash, and Bitty's robe had been undone. Jack pushed Bitty down onto his back and, just as quickly, pushed inside of him — Bitty was still wet and accepting from their activity upstairs. 

"Oh Lord," Bitty moaned loudly as Jack began to thrust into him. "Jack — Jack, come here."

Jack bent forward, although the height of the table made the activity a bit difficult. Bitty raised onto his elbows so they could share a kiss before he collapsed down again and began moaning loudly. Jack moved a hand to Bitty's erect cock and began to stroke it, which only escalated the volume of Bitty's pleasure. The room was still fairly dark and Jack could not see Bitty fully, but it was enough to see that Bitty was lost, his hands on his face, his legs up and wide, his chest rising and falling in erratic breaths that he let out loudly. 

"Fuck, Jack, I'm coming," said Bitty; Jack was not there yet, but he pumped Bitty through it and paused as Bitty came down. Once Bitty had finished, Jack pulled out and pulled Bitty by the arms off the table. He turned Bitty around and bent him over again, thrusting again into him at the same brutal pace. This allowed Bitty to press back at Jack, sneak a kiss, and then flop forward as he began his ride to pleasure again. 

The king came once more before Jack finished deep inside of him. Jack lay across Bitty's back, both breathless. 

"Phew," said Bitty once they both got their bearings back. "That was exactly what I wanted, Jack."

"Good," said Jack into his neck, followed by a short kiss. 

Bitty raised his head and looked at the tray of doughnuts in front of them. "You surprised me," he said. "I had no idea you could bake."

"I can bake those. That's about it."

"Still," said Bitty, and he turned his head to look back at Jack, who raised to standing so they could see each other clearly. "I did not expect this, and I am delighted by it. Thank you, Jack. This was a wonderful birthday present."

Jack gently pulled out of the king, allowing him to stand and turn toward Jack. They kissed again once more before Bitty smiled and said, "Let's take a few and bring them upstairs."

Bitty's idea of _a few_ did not match Jack's, but he still transferred six to a plate and brought them back upstairs to the king's chambers, where they snuggled in bed and finished them off. 


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Jack reads a passage from a book to Bitty that has some not cool violence in it. 
> 
> Also extreme warning: I wrote a ballad about Jack to the tune of [The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vST6hVRj2A&ab_channel=Zeezy) Sorry in advance for being terrible at ballads and also for making you think of that horrible song, but it's the first melody that came to me when I attempted to sing the words "Sir Jack the Dragonslayer."

They awoke naturally the following morning, the sun high in the sky when Jack opened his eyes. Bitty was beside him; at some point during the night they'd unraveled from each other. Bitty had pulled his blankets over his head and cocooned himself underneath them. Jack could see a tuft of blond hair poking out from underneath the down duvet. It was much too warm for such a blanket, at least for Jack, who'd kicked off all but a sheet.

The king was still asleep. Jack could hear his gentle breathing from somewhere underneath his barrier of blankets. Although it was warm in the room, Jack still pulled the covers up and over his head as well so he could peek into the world Bitty had retreated into. Bitty's eyes were shut, his forehead in his pillow, his body flush against the bed. He was naked and so Jack's eyes greedily roamed Bitty's small but firm body, settling more than once on the swell of his ass. Jack desired him, but Bitty looked much too peaceful to disturb.

Jack carefully moved in, lying on his side, and placed a gentle hand on Bitty's waist. While he had meant to snuggle and perhaps doze a few minutes more, the contact caused Bitty's eyes to blink open. 

A smile broke out on his face. "Are we hiding?" Bitty asked.

Jack had pulled the covers completely over them. It was dim but light still sneaked in under creases Jack had not flattened.

"I wanted to see what was so interesting under all of these blankets."

"Mmm, there's plenty to see under these covers," said Bitty, and he let his eyes trail up and down Jack's body. "Tell me, when you traveled on your missions, did you frequently have to make camp outside?"

"Camp is a generous term," said Jack. "When we were fortunate, we could erect tents and sleep on blankets, but most of the time in my travels, if we could not make the journey in a day, we slept on the ground with nothing but our armor for protection."

"I would make a terrible knight," said Bitty. "I can't sleep a wink without a blanket. I am also terrible with a sword."

"I heard tell that you are a magnificent archer."

"I am a good archer, but I am certain you or one of your former brothers-in-arms could split my arrow in two."

"Not me. I was always better at hand-to-hand combat," said Jack, and he smacked Bitty on the ass for emphasis. Bitty laughed. "Shall I demonstrate my prowess for you, my king?"

"No. Today is my birthday, and I have no plans until the feast this evening. I wish only to lounge about in my bed with you."

Jack smiled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

They did spend the bulk of the day in bed, but left it in bouts for lunch and a warm bath. Around mid-afternoon, Bitty grew bored of their lovemaking and climbed out of the bed. "This is why I do not take days off," he said as he fastened his robe around his waist. "I did not think it possible to not want you, yet here I am."

Jack was still breathless from their hours of activity, sprawled naked on the bed and staring at the canopy above him. He attempted a nod. "I think a break is warranted."

"The other night, when I accosted you in your room, you were reading a book. What was it?"

Jack took in a deep breath and let it out before he sat up. Bitty sat in an armchair near the fire, which he had moved so he could see Jack without having to turn his head. "It was a tale of a emperor and the conquests throughout his life. He had a very interesting relationship with a spearman." 

"A spearman?" Bitty asked. "Not even a knight?"

"No, when they met he was just one of thousands of spearmen in the emperor's army. This soldier just happened to be near the general when a message was to be sent, and he delivered it in the presence of the emperor. They were in love from the start."

"How did it end? An emperor cannot love a soldier, especially not a lowly spearman."

"I don't know. Someone made me drop the book and lose my place."

"Well that must have been incredibly rude," said Bitty with a smile. "Can you retrieve it and read it to me? We have at least an hour before we need to ready ourselves for the feast."

Jack dressed in just trousers before he left the room and returned to his own. The book still lay on his table; he had not picked it up since he had been interrupted, but he could tell by the bend in the pages where he roughly stopped. He hurried back to the king's chamber and sat in an armchair opposite Bitty. 

He opened the book to the fourth chapter and began to read aloud. Although Bitty surely was lost on the finer details of the narrative, he did not interrupt or ask clarifying questions. Instead he curled up in the chair, his knees under his chin, his arms wrapped around his legs, and simply watched.

"Emperor Vladislav," Jack read aloud, "resorted to many excuses, each the more varied and obscure, to call upon Anatoly the Spearman. It was not until the battle at the great river, which divided Vladislav from his next conquest, that he found true reason to draw Anatoly closer to him. The spearman performed admirably in the battle; while many of his comrades died, he prevailed, slaying all of his enemies within the long reach of his lance. His noble performance drew praise from his superiors, and Vladislav, having ears close to Anatoly's battalion, requested the brave young man appear before him to receive a special commendation.

"It was on that day that Anatoly the Spearman became a member of Vladislav's personal guard. While the personal guard of the emperor numbered a hundred, from that day forth, Vladislav was not seen without Anatoly. Vladislav's personal attendants were among the few who witnessed the intimate relationship between the two men, who, despite their varied upbringing, shared unending conversation.

"Anatoly the Spearman, later Anatoly of the Emperor's Guard, was born among the shepherds of the valley, a distance some one hundred kilometers from the capital where Vladislav lived and reigned. A man twenty years junior to the emperor, Anatoly was the third son of twelve children. His main duties within the valley consisted of protection; while the valley held many wide pastures, perfect for grazing, it also held a vast forest, full of hungry predators. Anatoly was but a boy when he first learned to throw a spear as a means to deter wolves from snatching outlying sheep. Upon reaching manhood, Anatoly could spear a running wolf from a hundred meters. It was this skill that earned the attention of the army, and was the reason Anatoly was placed upon the front line.

"Anatoly frequently lamented over his appointment to the service, as he was the best spearman in his family, and worried of the status of his flock. The numbers must have dwindled in his absence, and the wool from the sheep were his family's only means of income. It was just days into Anatoly's promotion to Vladislav's guard that the family began to receive a monthly stipend of no small means."

Jack looked up; Bitty was still looking at him, but his eyes were roaming the bare expanse of Jack's chest. Jack stopped reading, which drew Bitty's attention. "What?" Bitty asked.

"I'd ask you the same question."

"I was just admiring your… well your everything, Sir Knight," said Bitty with a smile. "How is it that after months of recovery you still look like you do?"

"My injury is in my knee, not in my chest. I do not need my legs for sit-ups and just one for push-ups."

Bitty hummed, his eyes trailing over Jack's chest and stomach again. 

"I thought you did not want me," said Jack with a laugh.

"I do not think I could take you again, but that does not stop my eyes from going where they will," said Bitty. "Keep reading, Sir Knight, I'm enjoying it thus far."

Jack turned the page and continued to read.

"While Anatoly was quite gifted with a spear, he was less acquainted with the weaponry of a solider — the blade, the bow, and the axe were all foreign to him. Vladislav took the young man under his wing; Vladislav, being an expert swordsman, taught Anatoly all he knew. Their lessons occurred daily, sometimes lasting late into the night until the two fell asleep in the emperor's tent from pure exhaustion."

Bitty snorted, causing Jack to smile.

"The pair remained close throughout the summer. When autumn came, the empire had grown to consist of all but the very northern lands on the continent. Vladislav, a man of the south, wished to take the north before winter, as harsh weather only held an advantage for the natives. The army set up camp within the Valley of Sunshine at the very edge of the emperor's domain. Vladislav wished to make haste over the mountains before winter refused them access; his strategists worried haste would lead to error and risk their chances of victory. It was well known that the northern lands were fiercely loyal to their crown and well suited not only for battle, but for espionage and sabotage.

"The first autumn snow fell in October. Anatoly, a southern man from a valley family, had never seen such weather. Vladislav took Anatoly to the base of the mountains and there they spent the last of their leisure time; Vladislav taught Anatoly how to construct a perfect snowball (which he later regretted when Anatoly defeated him heartily in a snowball battle) and how to make an impression of their bodies in the form of angels. The angels, one large and bearing a crown of leaves, one small and slender, remained upon the ground as the two returned to camp for the evening.

"It was those angels that caused the tide of conquest to turn; the northern kingdom knew of the emperor's plans to take their homeland and had sent scouts to find Vladislav amongst the encampments. Vladislav's angel bore a crown, and the northern scouts relayed his position to their commanders. The northern kingdom, smaller in number but in possession of an abundance of cunning, sent a single man in the dead of night to find the emperor and vanquish him.

"Vladislav's tent was empty apart from he and Anatoly, but shadows from the fire told the story of that which occurred inside. Vladislav lay with his lover upon their pallet when the assassin entered in silence. Anatoly leapt from the bed, naked and unprotected, and grasped a sword to defend his emperor's life. Vladislav shouted for the guards, but the fight was brief. Vladislav's cries changed quickly from a commanding order for assistance to a desperate plea for mercy as the assassin overpowered Anatoly and held a blade to his throat.

"The howl of 'Ana!' could be heard across the Valley of Sunshine as the assassin, having found the emperor's greatest weakness, spilled the blood of the spearman with a single swipe of his blade."

"Oh no!" Bitty cried. 

Jack paused as well. He did not see this coming. "Do you wish me to stop?" Jack asked.

"Turn a few pages, does the emperor grieve terribly?"

Jack turned a few pages and confirmed what Bitty feared. "The emperor loses much of his conquered lands in his grief," Jack said. 

"Oh, dear, no, I don't wish to hear any more. Let us dress and ready ourselves for the feast." 

Jack closed the book, ensuring to notate his spot. Even though Bitty did not wish to go on, Jack still wanted to finish the tale. They both stood and came together in front of the fire. Bitty rose to his toes and Jack bent over so their lips could connect. Bitty kissed him softly.

"I love to listen to your voice," Bitty whispered.

"I'm sorry the narrative turned in such a direction."

"It was still entertaining to hear." Bitty lowered his heels and rested his hands on Jack's firm chest. "Perhaps I shall have to take you under my wing and teach you what I know."

"I would enjoy that," said Jack and he leaned down to kiss Bitty once more. Bitty did not linger, and instead looked up at Jack with his soft brown eyes. Jack could see the king thinking, although he did not know where the thoughts led. Even so, Jack feared that the spearman's tragic end caused Bitty's mind to travel to unpleasant territory.

"Perhaps," Bitty said after a long silence, breaking their gaze and swiping his hands over Jack's chest, "perhaps instead you should teach me what you know. My fencing lessons never went anywhere as I was frightened of my tutor. He was old and large and yelled a lot. Perhaps I will do better if I am just sparring with you."

"I have not had opportunity to wield a sword in months. I would be delighted to teach you."

"Then it is settled. We begin tomorrow. Until then, we have a feast to attend."

"I'll see you soon," said Jack.

Bitty nodded, now looking back at him.

"Happy birthday, Bitty," whispered Jack, and Bitty broke out into a smile.

"You have made it a good one, my sweet."

Jack kissed him another time, just quickly, before he trailed his fingers down Bitty's arm, picked up his hand, and kissed it as well. Bitty squeezed his eyes closed as his smile threatened to take over his face, and then quickly swatted at Jack. "Stop," he said. 

"I am afraid, your majesty, I must disobey this command," said Jack, kissing his hand once again.

"I shall throw you in the dungeons and have you hanged at dawn," said Bitty, but accepted a final kiss to his lips before Jack exited the room, leaving a gleeful king behind him.

***

Delia made a fuss over him. He was ushered into a quick, scented bath before Delia styled his hair and shaved his face. He was dressed in the bathroom and Delia excessively smoothed through wrinkles in front of the mirror. She adjusted the front of his doublet so the buttons aligned directly center on his chest, she adjusted the fold of his boots to ensure they were of even height, and picked lint off his trousers.

After several minutes of preening, Delia stood and nodded. "I think you are ready, Sir Knight," she said with a heavy breath, apprehension on her face.

"Delia, are you nervous?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I want to ensure you look your best this evening."

"It's the king's birthday, not mine. I doubt anyone will be looking at me."

"You'd be surprised, Sir Knight. News of your role and… admirable qualities have circulated among the nobility."

"Oh, dear," said Jack. "Am I going to have to talk to people?"

"Hopefully not," Delia said. "I will be available after dinner if you are in need of a savior, but during the meal you are on your own."

Jack frowned but Delia took his arm and smiled at him through the mirror. "If anyone speaks to you, Sir Knight, it is because they are interested in you. Just be yourself and charm them like you have charmed our king."

"I doubt the king would be pleased if I used my charms on others," said Jack and Delia laughed.

"Oh, Jack, you will be just fine," she said and patted his arm. "The guests are arriving already. You may join them at your leisure, but please do not delay for long. The king will arrive at seven."

"Thank you, Delia."

He descended the stairs of the tower, taking his time to look at Larissa's paintings that hanged along the walls. They were quite good. He recognized the landscapes of Samwell but also landscapes of a kingdom that he did not know, but assumed was her homeland of Boston. He recognized the castle, the city of Bittle, the cranberry fields and farmland, the rolling hills and distant mountains, and the sea. He had seen much of the kingdom during his years in the brotherhood, and seeing a likeness of them, even in Larissa's stylized hand, made him yearn for his previous life.

He glanced at the large clock near the stairs; it was nearly seven, and he did not want to be late. He headed directly to the stairs and followed them to the antechamber. Several others were just arriving as well, dressed as neatly and ornately as Jack, almost all in blue or gold, and so Jack joined the queue, feeling a little silly since he stood alone. 

Oliver, the young man who had stroked Jack to hardness and announced him to the court, announced each of the parties in a loud voice, although Jack was not confident his speech carried throughout the hall, over all the guests chattering and the minstrels playing their jaunty tunes. When Jack reached the front of the line, Oliver stopped him at the door and yelled, "Sir Jack the Dragonslayer, Concubine to the King!" 

Jack tried not to react, but he very much wanted to roll his eyes. The king must have had influence in this title.

The announcement turned heads. Jack could see lords and ladies look in his direction, assessing his features and undressing him with their eyes. He tried to ignore it, but could feel their gaze as he was ushered toward his seat. He had no idea where he would be seated, if it would be with the other staff who had been lucky enough to attend instead of work. To his great surprise, he was led about the perimeter of the room and placed directly to the right of the empty thrones. To the left of the thrones sat Lord Byron. Jack did not know what he had done to earn the such a seat, but it seemed much too prestigious for the royal whore.

On Jack's other side sat the Knight Commander, Sir Hall. He, along with his aide Sir Murray, were Jack's former superiors, although Jack had little reason to interact with either of them, as more than one layer separated Jack from their direct supervision. Sir Murray had been present when Jack was injured, and Sir Hall had been the one to dismiss Jack from the brotherhood. It made the seating arrangement rather awkward.

Sir Hall, an older gentleman with thin eyebrows and a wrinkled forehead, nodded to Jack. "Your Royal Concubine," Sir Hall said. "We have not spoken in many months. I trust all is well with you."

"It is, Sir Knight," said Jack. While several people in the castle used the prefix _sir_ with Jack both in affection and as a gentle joke, it felt like a slight that Sir Hall omitted it. He'd been dismissed from his post, but he still held the title he had earned. "I have been most productive during my leave."

"I can see," said Sir Hall as he gestured vaguely to Jack's seat. "I observed you as you walked the Great Hall to your seat; your injury does not seem to trouble you much."

"It has greatly improved, but there are still some activities that I can no longer perform. You were right in your decision to dismiss me, as I would have made a terrible knight in my current condition. We both know a knight below his prime allows death upon his back."

"It appears to have worked out in your favor. I trust you are enjoying your new position?"

"Immensely," said Jack.

Sir Hall nodded to him, although Jack could see the discomfort in the commander's eyes. Jack did not wish to continue the conversation, knowing it would just lead down awkward paths, and to his great fortune, the minstrels ceased their song and the royal criers trumpeted loudly from their position along the walls. Attention that had been diverted now drew toward Jack and the empty thrones beside him; Jack wished it were not so.

Everyone within the room rose to their feet, so Jack did the same. Sir Hall turned to the main doors, which had been shut. They were then opened in grand fashion, the trumpets blaring in excitement as Bitty and Larissa entered, arm in arm, and waved at their applauding subjects in the typical royal fashion. Bitty wore a large smile in addition to his heavy crown and waved continuously as he and Larissa headed toward the high table. He frequently adjusted his wave to aim at small children and guests of significance. The walk across the hall seemed to take forever, and Jack felt ridiculous for applauding for so long, but then Bitty and Larissa reached the high table.

Bitty quickly winked at Jack before he stood in front of his chair, and Larissa in front of hers. The applauding ceased.

"Hail to the king and queen!" shouted Oliver, who had followed the royal couple down the aisle. 

"Hail!" shouted the subjects, many lifting their goblets in toast.

"Good fortune to the king on the day of his birth!"

"Hail!" shouted the subjects again.

"Long live the King and Queen of Samwell!"

"Long live the King and Queen of Samwell!" shouted the subjects. 

Bitty waved a final time and then sat. Larissa sat next, and then the rest of the guests were permitted to sit. Bitty immediately turned to Jack; despite the king's grand chair, they were of equal height.

"Good evening, Sir Knight," said Bitty in a low voice.

"Good evening, your majesty," said Jack. Bitty reached beneath the table and squeezed Jack's knee. Jack hid a smile.

Jack had been part of feasts within the High Court before, but he had never seen a celebration of this magnitude. Drink was plentiful and cups were never empty. The food, which had always been satisfactory, was so delicious Jack never wanted to stop eating, even long after he'd stuffed himself full. It was the sort of meal where everything looked good, even if Jack could not tell what it was. 

Bitty never emptied his plate and never set down his fork, even when chatting with Jack or Larissa. Jack understood why; there were many people in the hall and not everyone was served at once, so Bitty kept up the ruse that he was still eating so that everyone had enough time to finish their meal. Once ample time had passed, he set down his fork and the meal ended.

The minstrels played a fanciful jig. Lords and ladies took to the open floor in front of the high table to dance, some more heartily than others based on their consumption of drink. A few of the members of the high table stood and began to roam the room to chat with other guests, Sir Hall included, but Bitty and Larissa stayed in their chairs. There was no need for them to roam the room; the guests came to them.

Most of the conversation was polite and short. Between Bitty and Larissa, and sometimes Lord Byron, they knew the name of every guest who greeted them. Many came just to thank the king and queen for the invitation and the meal, but a few, clearly more well acquainted with the sovereigns, stayed for more than just a quick word. Jack did not need to stay and listen to it all, but he had nowhere else to go and no one else he wished to be near.

It had been an hour since the end of dinner and most of the guests were sloppy with drink. Bitty, ever elegant, imbibed but little and had his wits yet about him. He was still, however, most amused by the declining decorum of his guests, and became most amused when Adam the stablemaster and Denice the housemaid from the King's Tower approached the High Table. Adam carried a lute stolen from the minstrels, who had taken a break.

"My dear master, I see you have acquired an instrument," said Bitty with a laugh in his voice.

"My dear majesty," Adam responded, matching Bitty's tone as best he could when he was clearly intoxicated. "I have liberated this fine lute from your minstrels for an incredibly noble reason. I have been speaking with your housemaid Denice, and she has never heard the Ballad of Sir Jack the Dragonslayer."

"Oh no," said Jack quickly, but Bitty beamed with excitement.

"Neither have I!" Bitty said brightly. "Do you know it, Adam?"

"I do indeed. I had an inkling you had not when your housemaid responded so. I have taught her the melody and the words, and, if it would please your royal majesties, we wish to perform it for you."

Jack put up his hand and began shaking his head. "That is not —"

"That would be most delightful!" said Larissa. "Please sing for us!"

Jack could feel the heat on his face and, even worse, knew he could not escape the serenade. He could not stop his expression from turning pained, as if he'd eaten too much, and looked down so he would not have to see any part of the performance. Adam strummed the lute a few times before he softly counted, and then he and Denice began a harmonized song:

_Down among the fields of cranberry_   
_A fiend lay waste to the territory_   
_The people mourned long and deeply their loss_   
_Lift their tankards and pled to the gods_   
_'Great ones in the sky, bring a savior fast_   
_We fear these nights are our last'_   
_Then came the man from their prayer_   
_Sir Jack the Dragonslayer_

_His hair like the soil of the fields_   
_And with strong arm he held his shield_   
_A man most beauteous and most fair_   
_Stormed the dreaded dragon's lair_   
_His sword he swung, the fire he parried_   
_'Pon the back of the beast he was carried_   
_And there in the sky he ended the terror_   
_Sir Jack the Dragonslayer_

"Oh Lord," Jack whispered as Bitty leapt to his feet to applaud. Jack looked up; Larissa and Byron were on their feet as well, laughing merrily. Jack looked up to see both Adam and Denice bowing in response to the applause, and then both looked to Jack for approval. Jack refused to speak.

"Sir Knight, you must tell us what you thought of our performance," said Denice with a bright smile.

"You have a lovely voice, Denice," said Jack. Denice curtsied and looked to the king.

"I'm afraid my concubine is too humbled by your choice of song," said Bitty and he placed a hand upon Jack's as he returned to his seat. "I found the performance most amusing and beautiful, and I thank you much for it. You have delighted both my wife and I."

"Very much so, Denice, Adam," said Larissa. 

Denice and Adam bowed once more before taking their leave. As they did, Jack stood. "Oh, Sir Knight, come now," said Bitty. He was still smiling, as if unable to remove it from his face. "I would have found a way to hear the ballad one way or another."

"The ballad, as I have said, is exaggerated," said Jack. "I have had too much wine and must relieve myself — I shall return in a moment, my king."

"Oh, all right," said Bitty and allowed Jack to go. "Hurry back."

Jack set off through the back hallway. Despite Bitty's request, he took his time. He had never enjoyed feasts even when he sat at the back of the room, but sitting at the right of the king, hearing a ridiculous ballad exaggerate his part in such a conquest — that was too much attention. He shuffled along the hallway, reflecting upon the sculptures in the alcoves, when he heard footsteps.

He looked up and smiled despite his sour mood: Bitty, in all his majesty, approached alone. Jack watched him walk, his posture straight, his crown perfectly positioned, his cape wisping over the red carpet beneath him. Even if he disliked feasts, Jack did like how Bitty looked when dressed in his best attire.

"I worried you would not return at all," said Bitty as he approached. He placed a hand on Jack's arm and stepped close to him. "Are you terribly embarrassed, my sweet?"

"Not terribly," said Jack, and he allowed Bitty to lift to his toes and give Jack a short kiss.

"Even so, I am glad to have heard it, for now I can sing it to you while we are alone."

"Oh, please don't," said Jack.

" _His hair like the soil of the fields_ —"

Jack laughed. "Stop."

" _A man most beauteous and most fair_ —"

"My king, you are ruthless."

" _Sir Jack the Dragonslayer,_ " hummed Bitty and he lifted to his toes again to bring his lips near Jack's. "I grow weary of all this pomp and circumstance. Come upstairs with me?"

"That is a wonderful suggestion," Jack said. They kissed, just briefly, before Jack took the king by the hand and led them upstairs.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't necessarily think this needs a warning, but just in case: Jack and Bitty begin their swordfighting lessons in this chapter.

The novelty of life in the castle, of learning a new lover, of making new friends, settled after Bitty's birthday feast. Jack was no longer a new face, and so he felt much more comfortable around the staff and nobility when he was required to appear in front of them. He also was no longer in high demand during the day while the king partook his usual activities, so he had more time with Chestnut and his books. He rarely spent time in his own room, however, opting more to sit outside in the courtyard or remain in the king's bedchamber, where he spent all of his nights. While not as in demand as he had been his first few days at the castle, he was called twice a week to the courtyard to tutor Bitty in fencing.

"Parry. Parry. Turn. Good," said Jack. Bitty twirled around and held his wooden sword at the ready. 

It was a warm day; summer was on its way. Sweat glistened as it trickled down the side of Bitty's face. His hair stuck to his forehead, resulting in several head flicks to try to get it out of the way. His cheeks were flushed. He'd removed his jerkin and unlaced his shirt, giving Jack glimpses of his bare chest and the rabbit medallion that hanged there. Jack needed, on more than one occasion, to remind himself to focus, and as a result Bitty had tapped him twice when normally Jack would have been able to dodge.

Bitty's chest heaved in his effort, drawing Jack's attention. Without prompt, Bitty attacked. Jack blocked one thrust, then another. Bitty slid his sword off Jack's and whirled around with the momentum, his hand out, the flat of the sword colliding with Jack's side. Jack stumbled but kept on his feet, however if they had been using steel, Jack would have been dead.

"Did I get you?" Bitty asked gleefully.

Jack grabbed his side. They might have been using wood, but it still was a hearty blow. "Yes," Jack winced.

"Huzzah!" Bitty yelled, earning applause from their spectators. 

"Your spin is fast, your majesty," said Jack, using the formal address only because of their audience. "You can definitely use it to your advantage if there is room for it, like when you used the force from my block. A spin leaves you vulnerable, however, so only use it when you know you have time or can parry an attack. At the ready."

Bitty stepped into his ready stance, his right hand forward, his feet planted, his left hand up for stability. Jack did the same, although he held his left hand behind his back when he crossed his sword with Bitty's. "Try it again now, when I am on my guard."

Bitty spun again and, while fast, Jack smacked him in the side as he turned. Bitty stumbled before he reset. "See?" Jack said. "I was ready for you, and now you are dead. Take me off my guard before you try it again. Attack."

Bitty attacked, hitting Jack's sword, then again, then a third time, and used the force of the block to spin again. Although Jack expected it, Bitty was still too fast, and Jack felt the flat of the blade hit his side again, resulting in another round of applause.

"Good," said Jack as he took a step to the side. "Now see if you can do the same on defense."

They reset and Jack attacked, advancing forward and causing Bitty to withdraw in order to keep his space. They struck swords again.

"Parry!" Jack called. "Hold your ground, there will not always be room behind you."

Bitty planted his feet, parried the next attack, and spun once again. He came out of the turn low and went for Jack's thigh, but there had not been enough force on Bitty's side, so Jack had time to lower his sword to block. Bitty strafed to the side, still near to the ground, and attacked again. His sword hit Jack in the back of his weak knee, causing Jack's leg to buckle. He fell to the ground. Bitty stood upright, kicked Jack's sword out of his hand, and put the tip of his blade to Jack's throat.

"Good," said Jack.

Bitty beamed as their audience applauded again.

"Not all of your opponents will have a weakness known to you," said Jack.

"But you do, and I used it to my advantage," said Bitty. He extended a hand to Jack. Jack took it and Bitty helped him back to his feet. Jack took two steps to pick up his fallen sword, but he could feel the pain in his knee with each. He did not want to make it obvious that he was hurting, so he returned to his ready stance and faced Bitty again. Bitty was able to outspeed him yet again, sliding his blade across Jack's chest.

Jack lowered his sword. "Good," he said again. "That is enough for today, your majesty. You are much improved already."

Jack bowed to the king, who nodded his head in return, and the spectators applauded once more before they began to disperse. Jack took Bitty's sword from him and returned it to the rack. Bitty unlaced his fencing gloves and pulled them off, dallying deliberately, until most of their audience had left.

"I did not hurt you, did I?" Bitty asked quietly as he stood next to Jack, who was wiping the sweat from his face with a cloth.

"I am fine," said Jack with a smile. "It is a good idea to exploit a weakness if you know it, but there will not always be one, or at least not immediately. If you can create one and exploit it, that would be even better."

"I still do not think that I could ever perform in a real battle. It is easy to fight you because I've had plenty of experience falling on top of you."

Jack smiled. "And I on you."

"I expect you to fall on top of me this evening, my sweet," replied Bitty.

"Don't you worry, my liege. I will be happy to do so."

Bitty gave him a quick smile before he turned and left, taking the dirty jerkin from Christopher along the way. 

***

Jack was blissfully asleep, unaware of everything apart from his fantastic dream about Bitty and the tub in the bathroom — an experience Jack knew well — when the door to the king's chamber burst open and Christopher ran in, apologizing as he did. 

"Your majesty, Sir Knight, pardon my intrusion but it is morning," said Christopher, and he pulled open the curtains to reveal that it was, in fact, morning.

"Ugh, is it time to get up already?" Bitty moaned and wrapped his covers around him to shut out all light. 

"You have no appointments this morning, your majesty, but I received notice from the physician. He would… um."

Bitty peeked out of the covers. "Yes, Christopher?" he asked.

"He would like as many samples as possible this morning, as the queen can receive them today."

Christopher blushed horribly upon saying this. Bitty sat up, his covers still wrapped around him, and nodded. "Go to the kitchen and fetch at least four cups for me."

Christopher left the room in a hurry. Bitty flopped back down onto the bed and turned to Jack; it was an amusing sight, as he'd wrapped himself tightly in the duvet cover. Jack at least still had a sheet to cover himself, but the bulky Bitty seemed safe and warm. Bitty attempted to snuggle up to Jack, but could not get very close.

"Sir Knight, it is time to fulfill your job duties," said Bitty. "All of our practice has led to this moment. How many times can you get me to come this morning?"

Jack smiled; even though Bitty was wrapped up tightly in the large red blanket, Jack still wanted him.

"You might need to remove the blanket first," said Jack and Bitty laughed as the door opened again. Christopher returned and set several cups of a medicinal nature onto the nightstand next to Jack's side of the bed. 

"Thank you, Christopher," said Bitty. "Now leave us alone, but stay near. When I call you, you are to enter immediately and take the sample to Justin, who I assume is in the Queen's Tower."

"Yes, your majesty," said Christopher, and he hurried out of the room to leave them to their activity. 

Bitty turned to Jack, an eyebrow up. Jack gestured to the blanket and Bitty rolled several times to unravel himself, ending up at the edge of his side of the bed. "Stay there," said Jack. He took a cup and circumnavigated the bed only to kneel next to a naked and exposed Bitty. Jack set the cup on the floor next to him, grabbed the king's legs, and pulled them over the side of the bed.

"What're you gonna — UNH!" Bitty moaned loudly as Jack settled his face between Bitty's legs, licking him furiously. Bitty began to squirm. Jack could see him gripping the sheets tightly in each fist. Jack reached between Bitty's legs and took hold of his erection, which caused Bitty to moan again. Jack stroked it steadily as he licked Bitty, and in less than two minutes, they had their first sample.

"Lord, Jack, you're just supposed to make me come, not kill me," said Bitty, spineless and breathless, his body still bent over the side of the bed. "Ring the bell, would you? I don't think I can move."

Jack stood and rang the bell to summon Christopher. He pushed Bitty's legs onto the bed and covered the both of them with a sheet just as the door opened. Christopher took the first sample and then ran out of the room, pausing only to close the door behind him. Jack rolled onto his side to cuddle Bitty, who had regained his breath. Jack gently kissed the back of his neck and inward toward his spine.

"You may need to give me a minute, Sir Knight," said Bitty as Jack ran his tongue along Bitty's spine, stopping just between his shoulder blades.

"I will," whispered Jack, and he began to kiss down Bitty's back, stopping at the two dimples just above the swell of his ass. Jack went back up again, stopping at Bitty's hairline and then kissing into his neck again. Jack paused at Bitty's ear. "I believe you are at your most beautiful in the morning light."

Bitty smiled wide. "Flattery is unnecessary."

"But if I cannot make love to you yet, what else shall I do?" Jack asked and kissed below Bitty's ear.

"Perhaps you could read to me. What book do you have today, my dear knight?" Bitty asked. 

Jack rested his chin upon Bitty's pale, smooth back. Bitty had his eyes closed, as if he were completely relaxed. Jack smiled as he looked over the king; relaxation looked good on him, and it was immensely satisfying to know that Jack was the reason for it. 

"I am currently reading a thorough essay on food and the four humours," said Jack.

"Most interesting. I am terrible with the humours. Fetch it and read to me for a while."

Jack kissed Bitty on the neck one more time before he pulled on his trousers and crossed the hall to his room. He had not spent much time there as of late, mostly to dress or read, so the room felt cold and uninviting when he arrived. He quickly picked up his book from the bedside table and hastened to return to the king's bedchamber, where he felt warm and welcome. Bitty had left the bed but had not dressed, and he smiled warmly as Jack approached him. 

"What is it?" Jack asked, bemused by Bitty's stare and admiration. 

"You also look good in the morning light," Bitty said. Jack stopped in front of him and gave him a long, deep kiss. Bitty was the first to pull away, his hands resting gently on Jack's chest. "Mmm, perhaps we delay our break for a moment."

"Perhaps," said Jack, who took Bitty by the waist, lowered him to the ground, and kissed him again. A few minutes later, they had their second sample.

While Christopher ran to the Queen's Tower, Jack sat naked in an armchair near the fire with Bitty in front of him, resting his back between Jack's knees. It may have been summer, but the tower was frequently cold, so it felt pleasant at the hearth. To add to the warmth and comfort of the fire, Bitty ran his fingers lightly along the hair on Jack's legs, which tickled in a pleasant sort of way. Bitty stared into the dancing flames while Jack determined where to begin reading.

The book on food and the four humours was not very long, but it went into great detail about the proposed diet and temperament each type of person needed in order to live a balanced life. Instead of picking up where he left off, halfway through the chapter on Yellow Bile, Jack skimmed back to the first chapter in the book, where each humour was described.

"Do you know which one you are?" Jack asked. 

"No, I do not even know what they are. I suppose I should, though, if I am to amend my diet dependent upon it."

"I will read a description of each and we shall decide together, although I have a feeling I already know," said Jack. "Let us start here: the four humours are black bile, phlegm, blood, and yellow bile. The ideal state of being is balance between the four, but an individual may naturally have an excess of one or more. An individual with an excess of black bile, or melancholia, tends to think and feel deeply, keeps to oneself, and avoids being singled out in a crowd."

"Oh this is you, my dear knight," said Bitty with a laugh.

"Let me at least read the others before you label me so," said Jack. Bitty nuzzled his nose against the inside of Jack's thigh near his knee, but then resumed lightly caressing Jack's legs.

"The melancholic person is self-reliant, thoughtful, reserved, and often anxious. They often strive for perfection within themselves and their surroundings."

Bitty clucked his tongue and Jack gave him a gentle kick to the side. 

"Let us move on: An individual with an excess of phlegm tends to be relaxed, peaceful, and easy-going. They are sympathetic and care about others, yet they try to hide their emotions."

"Hmm," said Bitty. "That could be me."

"Phegmatic individuals have much success in generalizing ideas or problems to the world, as well as making compromises. That could be you, but in your position I would consider you less likely to make compromises. I know neither you nor I have an excess of yellow bile, as that tends to manifest in violence, vengefulness, and short tempers."

"I could be vengeful," said Bitty and Jack laughed. "Don't make me throw you in the dungeon, Sir Knight."

"You may only throw me in the dungeon if you promise to visit me while I am chained to the wall," said Jack, and Bitty hummed as he kissed the inside of Jack's thigh. "The final humour is an excess of blood — highly talkative."

"Hmm."

"Enthusiastic."

"Hmmm."

"Active and social."

"Hmmmmm."

"Individuals who have an excess of blood have a hard time doing nothing and frequently need to engage with others to pass their time."

Bitty rested his head against the seat of the armchair and looked up at Jack. Jack looked down at a pair of large, brown eyes. "I told you, I had a feeling I knew which one you were already," said Jack. "Come now, let's skip over to your recommended list of foods so we know what you should eat or not eat to control your volume of blood." Jack turned in the blood chapter and found the list of foods, which he began to read while running the fingers of his free hand through Bitty's hair. As he did so, Bitty's eyes gently closed. 

"Ah, it says here that the individual who has an excess of blood should avoid consuming too much milk, breads, and sweets. I don't think someone who likes to bake as much as you would do well with such a diet, but it explains why you are why you are."

Bitty opened his eyes, but Jack did not stop stroking his hair. "Not necessarily," Bitty said. "I do enjoy baking, yes, but I do not need to consume my goods. Bread, however… that is a problem."

"You enjoy your rolls," said Jack.

"I do," said Bitty. "Well if I cannot eat rolls — and I am not saying I will stop — what should I eat instead?"

"Sour fruits, like strawberries or cherries, barley, mushrooms, potatoes… hmm, and rich meats."

Bitty turned to face Jack, an eyebrow up. "Rich meat?" he asked. 

"Yes, such as beef, pork, or — uhm."

Bitty had reached between Jack's legs and took hold of his cock, which he was presently stroking into hardness. "Or maybe this?" Bitty asked, and he leaned forward to run his tongue along the head of it. 

"Maybe," Jack said, his voice low and quiet. He moaned as Bitty took it into his mouth, continuing to tongue the head from inside. "Unh, Bitty, I'm supposed to — I'm supposed to take care of you today."

"It's certainly not fair that I receive all the attention," said Bitty before he sunk back down onto Jack's cock and began bobbing upon it. The book dropped out of Jack's hand and onto the floor with a _THUD,_ but Jack's attention was more upon the man in front of him, sucking quite enthusiastically on his cock.

"You deserve all the attention," Jack whispered before he lost the ability to form thoughts. He placed a hand in Bitty's blond hair, guiding him farther down, and Bitty's eyes creased in delight as Jack took over. Jack was lost in Bitty's mouth for several minutes until he remembered the objective of the day, and pulled Bitty off of him.

"Stop," he said, "please, I want to be inside of you."

Bitty smiled and gave Jack's cock one last kiss. "Have it your way, Sir Knight," he said. Jack stood and directed Bitty quickly to the bed, where Jack toppled onto him. In no time at all Jack had placed himself inside of Bitty, and in his heated desire Jack found himself out of control, with Bitty sounding off his pleasure in moans that no doubt could be heard throughout the tower.

Jack lay face down upon the bed as Bitty rang the bell for Christopher. Christopher was red in the face as he entered the room and retrieved the third sample, but Bitty and Jack were too well spent to dwell upon what may or may not have been overheard. Once the door shut again, Bitty turned his head and dropped his arm onto Jack's back, which appeared the only movement he was capable of producing at that moment.

"Another break?" Jack asked, breathless.

"Yes, indeed," replied Bitty.

They took an early lunch that day, as they had skipped breakfast. Jack was able to perform the duties of his job most admirably and most thoroughly throughout the morning, even with extended breaks. Bitty reached a point where he could go no further, and they sat opposite each other at the table in front of the hearth, devouring their meal with no focus at all upon how the food would affect their humours. 

Christopher entered with a second plate for each of them, as both had cleared their first. After he set their food down, he stood upright and said, "Your majesty, after you lunch, the Duke of Founders has requested an audience with you to discuss the matter of the restoration of the kingdom's library."

"No doubt he wants more gold," said Bitty.

"The library suffered great losses in the fire, your majesty," said Christopher. "The arson hit Founders as hard as it did here."

Bitty glanced at Jack; the library was not the great loss in the fire. Jack looked down at his plate to avoid thinking of it, of the last time he saw his parents, of the reason the fire began, and of how Bitty must have felt, seeing his mother run off to town to aide her people only never to return. Despite having no input on the contents of his meal, it actually worked well for what the book suggested for him, although it would do nothing for Bitty.

"Fine, I will speak with him when I am finished here," Bitty said. "Is my physician pleased with the samples we provided this morning?"

"Yes, he said he has quite enough to perform the procedure on the queen."

"Good. Leave us. I'll receive the duke in the Great Hall after I have dressed. I do not reek, do I? Am I in need of a bath?"

"No, your majesty, but I would recommend your usual oil before you venture downstairs," said Christopher. Bitty agreed, and so Christopher left. 

Bitty looked across the table at Jack. "Tell me your opinion, Jack," he said as he picked up a piece of bread from his plate, looked at it, and tossed it back down again to instead opt for strawberries. "Should we give funds to the library? No doubt they wish to employ more staff to both copy what is salvageable and to visit neighboring kingdoms for copies of what has been lost."

"You know my opinion on books, Bitty, as you have replenished my case twice now since I have been in the castle: There is nothing that follows us in this life when we depart it for good, not unless we write it down," said Jack.

"Not all of the books lost in the fire were historical records of the deeds of our good citizens."

"True, but when we have read all we can of the deeds of our good citizens, we must occupy our time and our fancy with tales of those who never existed. I think your gold is worth that."

"All right, I'll give him his gold. He is quite an irksome fellow, however, so hopefully I can agree and be done with it. Perhaps I should strip him of his title and name you the Duke of Founders, if you love books so much."

"I'm sure that will go over well with the nobility, Bitty," said Jack.

Bitty look at Jack for a moment, his expression hard to read, before he headed to the armoire to dress without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find the four humours interesting, as they do somewhat relate to personality assessments used today. If you are interested as well, [here's the wikipedia article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_temperaments#Four_fundamental_personality_types) (which I used in Jack's description of them) as well as a link to the [appropriate foods to eat and avoid.](https://etwlife.com/selecting-food-for-your-temperament/)


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning: Jack recaps his battle with the Dragon of Cranberry here.

The queen did not conceive the first month, nor the second at that. Bitty was saddened by this news but Jack was not; he did not know how long Bitty would keep him around once the queen was with child. Only one heir of any gender was needed to continue the line.

Jack grew comfortable with his new life. He finished the books on his bookshelf twice over. He walked Chestnut daily, although he still longed to ride her. He also began rehabilitation with the royal physician. The rehabilitation sessions with Justin did not go well from Jack's perspective. He left his appointments hobbling badly and sometimes unable to stand, but Justin insisted Jack was doing well.

"There is a fair amount of scar tissue in here that we need to break up," said Justin as he bent Jack's leg to its limit before he straightened it again. Jack grimaced terribly from the pain and let out a long deep breath. He tensed as Justin began to bend it again. "It did not heal correctly the first time, and since the king refuses to allow me to operate again, we have to make due with what we have. Yes, you are in pain. I gave you another bottle of orpheum; did you go through it already? Be careful, Jack, that elixir is highly addictive."

Jack had thrown yet another bottle of painkilling elixir out his window just a week before, but he did not tell that to the physician.

"Will I be able to ride again?" Jack asked.

Justin sighed and scratched his nails through his short black hair. "It's possible, but unlikely. It doesn't help that you hurt your left knee, so mounting from the left will not be possible. When your foot is in a stirrup, it distributes weight differently than were you to walk or run. None of that is good for your situation, Sir Jack."

"Wonderful," muttered Jack.

"You are making progress, whether you know it or not. Take a spoonful of orpheum when you need it, but no more."

Jack did not feel as though he were making progress, but the days after he met with Justin, he did not notice his aches as much. While some of his appointments overlapped with Bitty's fencing lessons, the days when they did not were the best, because Jack could thus stand a fighting chance against the king, who was rapidly improving with each lesson.

By August, Bitty could best Jack in every duel, and Jack considered calling off lessons altogether, but he enjoyed having time with the king that did not involve sex. It was freeing to see Bitty in such a manner, away from a bedroom and fully clothed. It did not stop Jack from finding Bitty any less attractive, but it gave him the illusion that he was more than just a whore. 

They had just finished a morning lesson in the courtyard and were dallying, as usual, in order to have a private word with each other before going their separate ways for the rest of the day. Bitty took off his fencing gloves much too slowly, wiped his face far too much, and gave Jack several sideways glances as Jack unnecessarily straightened their wooden swords upon the rack.

"Excellent lesson, your majesty, Sir Knight," said Christopher as he approached the rack.

"Thank you, Christopher," said Bitty. "Do you think I am ready for combat? Shall I require a duel before you can wake me each morning?"

Christopher laughed heartily before he said, "You would certainly best me, your majesty. Sir Jack as well. Oh, and Sir Jack —" Jack looked up. "— March and April wish to know what you would have us make for your birthday dinner this evening."

"What?" roared Bitty as he turned to face Jack. Jack felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. "You, Sir Knight, have deceived me for the last time! How dare you not inform your king that it is your birthday!"

Jack glanced about the courtyard; apart from Christopher, who had also gone red with realization, they were quite alone. "My dear Bitty," Jack said in a low voice, "that is on you. My birthday is a national holiday."

Bitty smacked him in the chest, although his smile betrayed his mock anger. "You cad, don't you turn my words back on me. It is certainly not a national holiday, and I am beside myself with anger that you did not give me notice to arrange a gift and a feast."

"I do not wish for a feast," said Jack. "If you must give me anything, give me an afternoon alone with you."

Jack leaned in for a kiss, which Bitty granted, but only briefly. Bitty looked up at Jack, desire evident in his eyes, but backed away. "As you wish, Sir Knight," Bitty said, "but this afternoon. I must take the rest of the morning to finish my business, so we shall lunch together when I am through. Go inside and freshen up, for you smell like dirt. Christopher, come, we have much to do!"

Bitty and Christopher headed into the tower, whispering rapidly. It was quite the sight, as Bitty was several inches shorter than Christopher, and in an effort to not be overheard, Christopher stooped considerably to hear Bitty's orders. Jack was grateful for their whispers as he did not wish to know what Bitty had in store for him.

Jack returned to the tower and went directly to the bathroom to clean up. He took his time, as lunch was still over an hour away. He bathed thoroughly, shaved, and perused the oils on the shelf. Delia had always given him the same one, yet he did not know which it was, and there were several on the shelf. Some of them were labeled and clearly were not his — he knew he did not wear vanilla or cherry — but the floral scents were harder to distinguish.

He stood there a while, a towel wrapped around his waist, smelling the different oils to determine his. In his search he discovered that Bitty smelled of cedarwood; upon finding the bottle and inhaling the familiar scent, he paused and inhaled again and again. He had no desire to wear the oil himself, but instead closed his eyes and took the time to enjoy the memories associated with it.

"Sir Knight, what ever are you doing?" 

Jack opened his eyes and turned. Delia stood at the door, her hands on her hips, a smile on her face. It made her look much younger than she was; she was not often delighted. It made Jack wonder how long she had been there.

"Oh. Just… just looking for that oil you use on me. Which one is it?"

"It's definitely not the one you have been smelling for five minutes."

Jack returned the stopper to the bottle and placed it back on the shelf, his cheeks a little warm. Delia approached. She picked up a bottle labeled _lavender_ and began to dab it on him. "You have an affinity for the cedarwood, I see," she said gently as her fingers touched behind his ears, in the divots of his collarbones, at the nape of his neck, and on his wrists.

"The king wears it," said Jack.

Delia smiled. "I know."

He and Delia returned to his bedroom. "You're having lunch with the king, correct?" Delia asked. "Why don't we dress you in something —"

"We'll take care of that, Delia."

Jack turned to see Byron and Carlton enter the bedroom. Delia curtsied and left without another word. Carlton carried a case with him and set it down on the rug in front of the hearth. When Carlton opened the case, Jack saw several clothes in addition to his usual tailoring tools.

"What is this?" Jack asked.

Byron made a grand sweeping gesture. "I have been informed by his majesty that you will be joining him in the royal hall for lunch today, and that you should, and I quote, 'Dress in the very best garments the castle has to offer.' "

"Oh no, this is going to be a grand occasion, isn't it?" Jack asked.

"I'm only following orders, Sir Knight," said Byron as he plopped into an armchair with no grace. Jack groaned but accepted a pair of breeches, trousers, and a shirt from Carlton, who, as usual, did not look as though he wished to be there. The trousers were made of fine material but looked no more elegant than what Jack normally wore. The shirt, however, was of better quality than most of his other shirts, ruffled at the cuffs and collar, but still as soft as Jack expected. He pulled it over his head and tucked it into his trousers. He was then handed a blue doublet with silver embroidery. Carlton helped him put it on. Jack glanced at Byron, who was examining Jack's bookcase, as Carlton fastened the buttons and began to adjust the fit. The sleeves were tight at the bicep but loose on the forearms, so Carlton ripped the seam to the armpit and began to resew it to Jack's measurements.

"What do you think, Lord Byron?" Jack asked as he looked down at himself; so far he felt like a prized peacock rather than a person.

"I like it," said Byron. "The color suits you, and I daresay it is quite the garment. One definitely befitting of Sir Jack the Dragonslayer, defender of our lands from the terrible Ace of Spades —"

"Ow!" Jack snapped as he felt a needle dig into his arm.

"My apologies, Sir Knight," said Carlton.

Jack frowned and looked at Byron. "Just tell me this lunch isn't going to detract from my time with Bitty this afternoon."

Byron smiled widely, showing off a set of white teeth beneath his mustache. "You cad," he said. Jack rolled his eyes. "I doubt it will, as I'm sure the moment his majesty sees you dressed thusly, he will hop into your arms and demand you carry him back to his room."

"Good. Maybe I won't have to wear it for long," said Jack. He glanced down at Carlton, who had finished one sleeve and moved to the other, determinedly not looking back at Jack. 

Carlton took a few minutes to resew the sleeves, but once completed, he took a step back and looked over Jack's outfit. He nodded and looked to Byron for approval. Byron nodded as well. "Looks good, Carlton. Jack, I've business to wrap up, but you are due at the royal hall in half an hour." Byron clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder prior to his exit. Carlton closed his case and left as well, but gave Jack neither glance nor goodbye.

***

Jack was much relieved upon entering the royal dining hall. He'd not been in this room before, but it was as stunning as expected — the table reached the length of the room. It could sit a hundred or more, but when Jack entered, it sat only three: Bitty, Larissa, and Byron.

"Happy birthday!" the three shouted, standing up from their seats and throwing streamers in the air. Jack laughed. All three were dressed to impress, Bitty and Byron wearing their best doublets, Bitty in his crown and cape, and Larissa in her crown and a beautiful gold dress that looked to cost more than most citizens earned in a year.

As Jack approached his party, he saw the table set for a small meal, something he could not see when he first entered the room. The spread included all of his favorite things: roasted potatoes, peas, a loin of pork, and a variety of fruit. Jack did not get the chance to sit down, however, because Larissa caught him in an embrace, enough to cause him to step back with his right foot in order to prevent a tumble onto the floor. He looked up to see Byron coming in as well; Jack expected Larissa to let go, but she did not, and Byron hugged the pair of them.

"C'mon, Bitty," said Byron over his shoulder. Bitty joined in the hug from the side, struggling to get his arms around the entire group. He rested his head on Jack's arm.

"You boys are crushing me to death!" Larissa groaned from the inside of the circle. She pushed with all of her might, which was considerable strength given her size, and the three men were separated from each other, but more importantly, from her. She panted, her bosom — emphasized by her corset — rose and fell with each breath. Byron stared at it until Larissa hit him in the stomach with the back of her hand.

"Jack, come sit and eat," said Bitty as he took Jack by the arm and led him to the table. Given that the table sat so many, there was room at the head for all four of them, but Bitty set Jack next to him while Larissa and Byron sat beyond the corner to their right. Jack looked about the room; it was empty apart from the four of them, even devoid of servants, but it still felt wrong to sit at a higher place than the queen.

Bitty served Jack first, then Larissa and Byron, and finally himself. Jack waited for everyone to have a full plate before he took up his fork, but, as usual, he looked to Bitty to take the first bite. Bitty caught his gaze and smiled, but did not pick up his fork. Jack looked to Larissa and Byron; neither of them had a utensil in hand. With reluctance he stabbed a potato with his fork and brought it to his mouth, and then the others began to eat.

"You were worried I'd invite the entire kingdom to dine with us, were you not?" Bitty asked. Jack looked over; Bitty had pulled up one of his legs onto the chair and leaned into Jack's space.

"I was," said Jack.

"He was going to; we had to stop him," said Larissa. "I told him you'd hate it."

"Thank you for intervening," said Jack. "The last thing I want is a grand affair with people I do not know nor care for."

"Aww, Sir Knight, does that mean you care for me?" Byron asked.

"With all my heart, Lord Byron," said Jack, and he tipped his goblet of wine toward Byron before he took a drink. Bitty hit him. "Oh, I'm sorry, my liege, I did not know you were still there."

"I had to reschedule several appointments in order to spend the afternoon with you, Sir Knight. I can easily fill the time again," said Bitty. Jack set down his goblet, leaned over, and kissed Bitty on the cheek.

"You know that my heart only belongs to you," Jack whispered. Bitty's cheeks flushed, but his nose scrunched as he feigned his anger. Jack took him by the chin and directed their mouths together, kissing him deeply, and when he let go, Bitty's entire face was bright red. Jack turned back to Larissa and Byron, who were losing their attempt to hold back laughter.

"Oh, Jack," said Larissa, "I am so glad that you are in our lives. My dear husband was such a bore before you."

"I was nothing but amusing!" interjected Bitty.

"Perhaps after a visit to the Swallow," said Byron, which caused Bitty to glance at Jack and huff.

"Come now, let's not talk of such —"

"With all seriousness, my dear knight," said Larissa, "he is much changed since you came along. This is why Byron and I convinced him to open the position in the first place. He was so pent up with emotion —"

"With desire, more like," said Byron.

"Hush, Byron. He was so pent up with _teenage emotion_ that I sneaked him to the Swallow on his fifteenth birthday, and while it helped, it did nothing in the long run except earn the brothel more gold."

"Must we bring up my midnight endeavors in front of Jack?" Bitty asked. "Yes, I went there. It's the only place where I could hide my crown and lie with a man without judgment. And yes, I agree that Jack is better than the threat of syphilis. The end. Can we move on?"

Jack draped his arm over Bitty's shoulders. Bitty gently touched his hand before he returned to his meal, and so Jack turned back to Larissa. "Something tells me you were not the archetype of a princess that we learn of in the history books. Less needlework and more dirt."

Larissa adjusted her bodice. "I do admit I find the standard duties of a noblewoman to be quite restrictive. I had my lessons in needlework, but I always much preferred to have a brush in my hand rather than anything else. I would paint whatever I found interesting, and to the detriment of my governess, what I found interesting was usually through a field of mud."

"Larissa is the best artist I have ever known," said Bitty. "And I have considered many for my royal portrait. No one else has her talent."

"You should paint Jack," said Byron.

"I should," confirmed Larissa. "You name the day, Jack, and I'll be happy to do your portrait. It will be my birthday gift to you… if my husband allows you the time away from him."

"If you must," sighed Bitty, and Larissa smiled.

"I will. Now it is your turn, Jack. Tell us something about you," said Larissa.

"What do you wish to know?" Jack asked.

"Tell us about the dragon," said Byron.

"Oh, yes! Tell us about the dragon!" said Bitty as he turned toward Jack. "Sir Jack the Dragonslayer has confirmed no details of his ballad and has told me nothing apart from a humble 'I was fortunate,' which I know is not the truth."

"Well I was fortunate," said Jack, which caused Bitty to groan and stuff another strawberry in his mouth. "All right, your majesty, I will regale you with the incredibly dull tale of the Dragon of Cranberry, and my company who sought it out. The ballad failed to mention them, but I did not travel alone.

"It was about this time last year. I remember it was summer and dreadfully hot. I did not set out toward the township of Cranberry with the aim to rid it of the dragon. I actually did not know they had a dragon until I arrived. I was there on official business, delivering a message from the Knight Commander to the mayor."

"What was the message?" Larissa asked.

"I was but a knight, Larissa. One of hundreds in the High Court. I was not important enough to know the message. I was just to deliver it."

"How utterly stupid," said Byron. "What if it rained and the letter was destroyed? What if you dropped it along the way? They don't tell you what's in it?"

"No. The only time I knew the message I was to give was the day I accompanied Sir Murray to the castle in Boston, to ask the King and Queen for the hand of the beautiful Princess Larissa."

Larissa beamed. "I did not know you were there, Jack!"

"I was," said Jack with a smile. "Again, I was not important enough to actually relay the message. Sir Murray did that for me. I was just one of the company. It was on the way back…" Jack paused, remembering suddenly the journey home. "It was on the way back that I was injured."

"Oh," said Larissa, her excitement gone. She placed her hand on top of Jack's. "I am sorry."

"It does not matter," said Jack and he squeezed her hand. "If not for my injury I would not be here with you. So, I was to deliver a message to the Mayor of Cranberry on behalf of the Knight Commander. I took with me four men. A message does not need five knights to deliver it, however we usually ride in a company of such so that we may protect each other on the road, as it can be dangerous, even in our peaceful land.

"I petitioned for an audience with the mayor directly upon our arrival, but he refused to see us. It was my order to give the message to him and no other, so we had to wait. It did not look as though it would be soon, so my men and I took shelter at the inn. The village was empty. I'd never seen a place like it — broad daylight, the sun out, but everyone shut in their homes. It must have been stifling hot inside, but the streets were silent. The innkeeper was nervous, jumpy, as was his wife and the cook. There were no other patrons. I'd been four years in the brotherhood at that point, seen my share of inns. Even if there are no travelers, it's always a place where villagers come to drink and converse. The whole thing was worrisome, and so my compatriot Sir Sebastien inquired why. 

"The innkeeper told us in a hushed voice, as if it could hear, that a dragon had taken residence in the fields. Ruined most of the crops and took the lives of the farmers that tended to them. The destruction of the cranberries was a huge blow to the village —"

"— As it was to our kingdom," said Bitty.

"The innkeeper asked if there was anything we could do while we were in town. I'd never seen a dragon before. I knew nothing about them. In fact, I did not think them real until the moment I saw one. I said we'd look into it, if he could put in a word with us to the mayor. We had a message to deliver, and we couldn't do anything until that happened. He led us to the mayor's house, who let us in, and the mayor said he'd do anything if we were to slay it, give us anything we wanted."

"What'd he give you?" Byron asked.

"Nothing. I was a Knight of the High Court. I swore an oath to protect my king but also my country, so I refused to accept a reward."

"You're not a Knight of the High Court, you're a fool," said Byron. "Should've taken the whole town's gold."

"Hush, Byron. That's very noble of you, Jack," said Bitty. "Go on."

"After we agreed to help, word spread around the village what we were to do, so we were able to gather information from the residents and the survivors. According to them, the dragon always appeared from the mountains to the west, so we set off there. It was fairly easy to track from the scorch marks upon the earth and the clean bones of the dragon's prey. Sir Dustin was the quickest of us all so he went into the caves at the base of the mountain and found it after half a day's search. It made its lair in one of the caves. I still did not believe it was a dragon, even after seeing the evidence thus far. We waited for evening, hoping darkness would assist, but we barely entered the cave when it spotted us."

"Oh dear!" said Bitty, his hands over his mouth. 

"I was worried most that it would fly away and never return. Sir Alexei was best with a bow, so he and Sir Randall fired upon it, aiming for its wings, and they crippled it enough that Dustin, Sebastien, and I could attack."

"And it was a dragon, right?" Byron asked. "Not a large lizard or an ill-tempered horse covered in moss?"

"It was a dragon, all right," said Jack. He raised his arms above his head, but was completely unable to physically portray the vastness of the creature. "Huge. As big as this room at least, and thrashing about violently. It was able to breathe fire, like they say, but not endlessly. We were able to mostly avoid it, but Dustin was burned badly in the fight. While it was distracted by the others, I ran alongside it and hopped upon its back. Its skin was hard and rough and thick like the tallest of trees. Even after it died I did not dare touch it with my bare hands, as it was likely to scrape me raw. It thrashed its long neck and spread its wings, desperate to throw me. While it was thrashing, Sebastien attempted to climb up as well, but despite the damage to its wings, it was able to take flight and Sebastien was thrown. I was at the nape of its neck and plunged a dagger into its hide. It was not enough to pierce through, but enough to keep me upon it as it escaped the cave.

"The damage to its wings was extensive, however, and even out in open air it was not able to soar high. We hovered just above the ground, but we were moving fast. I took my second dagger and climbed up its neck. Were it a lesser creature I surely would have fallen, but its neck was as wide as an alley. It tried again and again to throw me, but I reached its head, dug my knees into its hide, and with both hands, plunged my sword through its brain."

Bitty yelped behind his hands as Jack mimicked the motion, thrusting downward and hitting the table with a loud THUMP.

"It died instantly, but as we were airborne, we crashed down to the earth. I flew off its back and tumbled over and over in the field, but I was fortunate, like I said, as I was barely hurt. A few bruises, a sprain or two, but nothing worse. I was able to stand and inspect it to ensure its death, but more importantly, to retrieve my sword."

"Oh, of course," said Byron. "Approach the possibly not-dead fire breather to get your sword."

"I received that sword as a gift the day of my knighting. I am quite fond of it. I had to scrub it clean as it was soaked in dragon's blood, but I still have it. It's mounted above my hearth."

"Goodness," said Larissa. "That was… Bitty, I understand what you mean when you say that Jack can tell a tale. Was that truly what happened?"

"Yes, of course," said Jack. "But truly, any of us could have reached its back first. I just happened to be the one who made it there." 

Jack looked between the faces of Byron, Larissa, and Bitty. Byron's eyes were wide, Larissa had a hand to her chest, and Bitty looked as though he was prepared to jump Jack right there at the table. None of them seemed convinced by his modesty. 

"Well," said Bitty, breaking the silence. "I am ready to go. Larissa, Byron, we shall see you later. Much later. Do not bother us."

Larissa and Byron toasted Jack with their goblets before Jack and Bitty left the room. Bitty took Jack by the hand but they did not head in the direction of the tower. Instead they walked to the back stairs, where Bitty led Jack down toward the kitchen.

"Where are you taking me now?" Jack asked, slightly exasperated, as he was very much looking forward to being alone with Bitty upstairs in his bedroom.

"We have not had dessert yet, my sweet," said Bitty with a smile. "I promise we will go upstairs after, but I made something for you."

"You did not need to make me anything, Bitty," said Jack, but Bitty waved it away as if it were nothing. Jack was certain Bitty had rushed directly from their fencing lesson to the kitchen to have time to prepare something in time for lunch. Jack smiled and gripped Bitty's hand as they hurried there; he may not have wanted anything for his birthday, but it was heartwarming to know the king of such a prestigious country dropped all of his duties to make Jack a dessert.

The kitchen was extremely busy; it was not just lunch for Jack and his friends, but also the rest of the staff in the castle. However, the moment Bitty appeared, every person stopped and bowed.

"Please, continue your work," said Bitty with a sweeping arm to dismiss their formality. "I am just here to take the dessert I made earlier." 

"It is here, your majesty," said one of the pâtissiers, who held out a pie for Bitty to take. Bitty did graciously and asked for utensils as well; Jack was handed two plates, two forks, and a serving knife. 

"Thank you much," said Bitty. "Come Jack, I think I know where we can be alone while we eat."

Jack followed Bitty out the door of the kitchen and through a short hallway that he recognized; it led directly to the throne room. Bitty surely was not planning to lead him there, but Jack remained silent as he followed the king, who did in fact stop at the door to the throne room and nodded for Jack to open it.

"The throne room?" Jack asked.

"I informed the staff that I would not be using it for the remainder of the day and that it should be cleared, so it very well should be empty," said Bitty. Jack opened the door; the candles were lit and the sun shined in through the beautiful stained glass windows that lined the top of the room. As Bitty surmised, it was completely empty. The room seemed much larger when they stepped inside with no one else to greet them. The red carpet muted their footsteps, but Jack could hear his feet upon the ground.

Bitty sat on the steps at the front of the dais that held the dual thrones. Jack sat next to him and looked at the pie for the first time. It both looked and smelled delicious; the crust had been folded over to leave an open patch at the center, but it had been topped with some kind of crumble. There was an icing dripped in steady lines over it. 

"What is this?" Jack asked. 

"It is something I have been playing with for a while. Alice, my head pâtissier, has helped me through numerous iterations of the recipe. I believe this is the best thus far, although it may still need some adjustments. Please be honest with me when you taste it; if it could be made better in any way, I wish to do so."

Bitty cut a slice of pie and set it on a plate for Jack. Despite the large meal Jack had just consumed, he felt his mouth begin to water as he took the plate from Bitty. It was an apple pie, which Jack should have deduced from the smell. The apples were evenly cut and coated with cinnamon and sugar. Bitty did not serve himself and looked at Jack expectantly, so Jack took the first bite.

He moaned loudly and uncontrollably. The apples were sweet, the crust was flaky, and the crumble added a crunchy snap that perfected the bite. Jack took another bite, both because he could not help himself, and because he wanted to taste the drizzle of icing. The icing was also sweet and had a hint of something Jack could not recognize.

"What is in the icing?" Jack asked.

"Maple syrup," said Bitty.

Jack nodded and recognized the flavor. Maple syrup was not a common product in Samwell, but Jack remembered the taste from when he visited the northern provinces in his travels.

"My dear knight, you are leaving me in suspense. Please tell me what you think."

"My dear king, I cannot possibly speak to this as I am in far too much ecstasy to think of anything else," said Jack, which made Bitty smile as brightly as the sun shining through the windows onto the dais. Jack devoured the entire slice and fell onto his back once he did, moaning again. "Bitty," he said. "That was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten."

"I told you to be honest, Sir Knight. What can make it better?"

"Nothing," said Jack with a wave of his hand. "It is perfect."

Bitty climbed atop him and scrutinized his face. He must have been satisfied with what he saw there, for he nodded, gave Jack a quick kiss. "Good," he said. "I was quite worried you would not like it."

"I loved it," said Jack. "Thank you very much."

"You are most welcome, Sir Knight," said Bitty. "Come, let us stay here and bask in our solitude for a while." Bitty stood, stepped over to his throne, and sat down. Jack sat up. Bitty reached over to his left and patted the arm of the queen's throne. Jack looked at it, aghast. 

"Bitty," Jack said. "I cannot sit there."

"Why not? We are alone."

"It is the queen's throne."

"Sir Knight," said Bitty, his tone of his voice suddenly firm, "I have asked you to sit next to me. Do not make me ask again."

Jack stood, hesitated, but then stepped to the throne and sat upon it. Bitty took his hand.

Jack felt his heart beat hard in his chest as he looked out at the room. He could see the end of the dais and the pie that Bitty had left there, and beyond that the empty hall and the grand doors that led to the antechamber. He looked up at the stained glass windows. The windows closest to the doors were simply colored at random, with no specific design, but the windows near the throne depicted scenes from Samwell's history. Jack recognized a few from sight: King Samuel the First, the first ruler of the land, standing beside a well that he built in the courtyard of his first castle; King Richard the First with a rabbit upon his shoulder, as he was the monarch who commissioned the design of the sigil and crest of Samwell; and Queen Eleanor the Second who built the library at Founders, the largest library in the northern continent before it was lost in the great fire. 

Jack felt wholly uncomfortable in this seat, looking upon great leaders of the past, knowing his position was nothing more than to pleasure this king. He looked over at Bitty, who was also looking out at the empty room. Bitty's gaze went much farther than the hall, possibly farther than the castle itself. He was clearly deep in thought, and Jack remembered the shame upon Bitty's face when Larissa mentioned his experience at the Swallow. 

"Do you not wish me to be friendly with Larissa and Byron?" Jack asked quietly, afraid his voice would carry. 

"Of course I do," said Bitty as he looked over and forced a smile. "They only… I have known them long, and we have created many memories together. They like to remind me of that sometimes."

"You do not need to impress me. I do not care if you lost to Larissa in a duel or visited a brothel before you met me."

Bitty was silent, so Jack did not press, nor did he change the topic of conversation. He let Bitty direct where they would go next, and a few minutes later, Bitty spoke: "I knew from childhood that I preferred men. I knew my parents wished me to wed Larissa when we were of age, and I knew they were happy we were friends. Upon the realization that I did not and would not love her, I was devastated. I was an only child. The fate of the kingdom lay with me. I knew I'd have to surrender to duty. I fought daily with myself, for years, to try to be a different person. I wanted to be the kind of person who could love her and have children with her, but I never changed. She knew as long as I did. When I turned fifteen my mother asked if I would propose to her, as it was still my choice to do so. Larissa was here in the castle with me, celebrating my birthday, and so I went to her room after nightfall and I remember I sobbed in her arms for hours. I told her I did not want to be this way, and I wished it were possible to get it out of my system, to suppress it or release it so that I could love her instead. She took me to the Swallow and I took a man for the first time. It was both the best and worst experience of my life thus far — I had never felt something like that before and I loved every moment of the act, but once it was over, I had never felt so ashamed. It only confirmed what I knew already. I could never be with a woman like I was with that man. I didn't want to go back there ever again, but once I knew what it was like, I didn't stop. I spent the next three years feeling a moment of passion followed by weeks of regret and shame."

Jack stood from the throne and knelt in front of Bitty instead; he felt much more at ease in this position. He placed his hands on Bitty's legs and gently rubbed them. "I wish you never to feel that again," Jack said.

"You have helped me more than you know," said Bitty, and he tipped Jack's face up by the chin so Bitty could look him in the eyes. Jack smiled; Bitty's eyes were by far his best feature. "Sir Knight, I am grateful that you are here."

Jack rubbed Bitty's knees again. "As am I."

Bitty's expression changed to one Jack recognized at once; it made Jack's cock stiffen in his trousers. "I know it is your birthday," Bitty said, "and I wish to make it a great one, but will you indulge a longtime fantasy of mine?"

"What is that, my king?" Jack asked.

"Will you suck my cock while I sit here on my throne?"

Jack let out a laugh that echoed in the empty room, but obliged with much enthusiasm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pie that Bitty makes Jack for his birthday is the Maple Glazed Apple Crumb Pie, the recipe of which I included in [Chapter 3 of my Southern Confectionaries fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8772907/chapters/20110276). If you like apple pie, I HIGHLY recommend it. It's my husband's favorite dessert and I find it quite good as well.


	10. Chapter Nine

It was a warm summer morning, and Jack had awoken late in the king's bed. Bitty had been gone for a while by the time he awoke, but left behind a note conveying his wishes to not disturb Jack's peace. Jack read it several times, a smile on his face, before he decided to get out of the bed and ready himself for the day. He had just exited his room in a linen shirt and trousers with the intent to go to the courtyard for a fencing lesson when Christopher entered through the tower stairs and stopped in front of him, a bit out of breath.

"There you are!" said Christopher. Upon further examination, Christopher was sweating and flushed in his cheeks. "I thought you had gone to the courtyard already so I ran the whole way there, but it appears that was not necessary. The king wishes to see you in his bedchamber."

"Now?" Jack asked, slightly confused and a bit disappointed. His rehabilitation with Justin still caused his knee to pain him terribly, but he did not have an appointment that morning, and he felt particularly healthy. Because of this, he wanted to knock Bitty onto the ground at least twice.

"Yes, the queen — well, the queen is ready for another sample," said Christopher, who had not yet become accustomed to discussing such a matter despite this being their fourth round of sample collection. 

"Ah," said Jack. "Did you bring in the cups already?"

"Yes, and I will wait in the hall until you ring for me. Good luck, Sir Knight."

It was an odd thing to wish luck upon, but Jack nodded to Christopher all the same and made his way to Bitty's bedchamber. He opened the door and Bitty turned, already naked and standing by the hearth. Jack smiled. If he could not have a lesson, a naked Bitty was the most agreeable alternative. Jack quickly kicked off his boots as he untucked his shirt from his trousers.

"Sorry to cancel our lesson," said Bitty as Jack, now naked, approached him.

"If we cancel in order to fuck, I suppose I will accept it," said Jack, and he took Bitty's hand. Bitty led them to the bed and pushed them both upon it. Jack wasted no time to turn Bitty over and place his fingers between his legs. Bitty moaned, his body twisted so he could look back as Jack dutifully fingered him. Jack looked over Bitty; in such a position he could see Bitty's necklace swinging, and something about the rabbit medallion around his neck made Bitty additionally sexy. Jack kissed Bitty's bicep, shoulder, and neck before he brought his lips to Bitty's ear. "You look good today."

"How am I different from yesterday?"

"You are not," said Jack. "You looked good yesterday too."

Bitty laughed but Jack's fingers brushed a specific spot inside of him, causing him to collapse onto his front and moan again. Jack smiled; it was reassuring that after three months as the king's concubine, Jack could still make Bitty react in such a way, even with just his hand. "Sir Knight," Bitty moaned as Jack brushed it again. "Sir Knight, do you mean to finish me with just your fingers?"

"Perhaps," said Jack. "Do you object?"

Bitty moaned again and vehemently shook his head. Jack continued then, and just a minute later Bitty reached out for a cup from the nightstand. Once finished, Bitty collapsed onto the bed again, his hand and the cup in the air to prevent a spill. Jack took it from him, covered their bodies with a sheet, and rang the bell.

Christopher entered quickly and left just as fast with the cup in hand. Once he was gone, Jack pulled back the sheet and embraced Bitty from behind. "How do you feel?" Jack asked, his chin on Bitty's shoulder, looking over Bitty's flushed face and his tightly shut eyes.

"Unh," said Bitty.

"Let us take a break before we go again. You canceled our lesson when I was looking forward to besting you. Get up, we can move the table and duel in front of the fire."

Jack sat up and noticed quickly that Bitty did not follow. He looked back and found Bitty staring at him, scandalized. Jack laughed and planted a kiss on Bitty's lips before he sat up again. "Come now, it's just a duel. Or do you yield already?"

Bitty's eyes narrowed. "You are on, Sir Knight."

They did not have their wooden swords and Christopher was off to the Queen's Tower, but Bitty had an armored statue on either side of his chamber door, each of whom held a sword. Neither sword had been sharpened, and when Jack tested the blades with his fingers, he found them quite blunt. Despite that, they could potentially harm each other if they were not careful. The swords were equal in length but one felt lighter, so Jack handed it to Bitty and kept the heavier for himself.

"Ready?" Jack asked as he planted his feet on the rug in front of the fire. Bitty responded in turn by touching Jack's sword with his and then nodded. Jack did not bother with direction; they were weeks into their lessons by now. Jack continued to correct his form or provide guidance to improve, but Bitty knew how to start a duel.

They slowly began to circle each other, eyes locked. Jack wanted Bitty to attack first, but he examined Bitty's stance to look for areas of weakness. It was a much different examination, as Bitty was naked, and Jack found himself distracted by the strength in Bitty's legs or the swinging of his medallion on his chest. 

Bitty struck first, a low inside lunge that Jack easily stepped away from and parried. Bitty reset his position and they circled each other again. Jack attacked this time, lunging toward Bitty's open waist, but Bitty lowered his blade in time to block and used the force to spin out of the way and attempt a counterstrike, although Jack blocked it as well.

Bitty was the first to hit; he aimed a strike to Jack's left right shoulder and connected, causing Jack's arm to seize and lower. The blades were dull, but it hurt all the same. Jack shook it off and aimed a strike back, but Bitty blocked him, spun, and swung out his sword to smack Jack in the side.

"Ow," said Jack.

"You hurt?" Bitty asked.

"No," said Jack. "That was good. Again."

They circled once more, staring each other down. Bitty's broke the gaze to look over Jack's body, and a smile tugged at his lips. "Is this exciting you?" Bitty asked.

Jack glanced down at his erection. "Maybe. You have improved greatly."

"I have a great tutor," said Bitty, and then lunged forward again. Jack spun out of the way and tapped Bitty on the back as he passed. Bitty cursed and Jack laughed. The laugh must have incensed Bitty because he came at Jack hard, striking once, then twice, and then a third time, finally breaking Jack's block. Bitty used his shoulder to knock Jack back. Jack, much too cocky after his hit, did not realize he had been pushed into the table and stumbled. He fell onto the rug and so Bitty straddled him, his sword in both hands, and stopped as the tip touched Jack's chest.

"I win," said Bitty with a smile.

"This move may best a dragon," Jack said, "but it leaves your entire torso open. If I had a dagger in my belt, I could have easily taken you to death with me." Jack lifted his fist and touched it to Bitty's side. 

"But you don't," said Bitty. "You are naked. I win."

Jack smiled. "Good."

Bitty dropped his sword and leaned forward to kiss Jack deeply. Just as their lips connected, Bitty adjusted himself on Jack's hips and sunk down onto his erect cock. Jack let out a pleasant sigh and released himself to the floor, watching as Bitty moved up and down upon him. Bitty's pace was fast and hard; this was a ride built for pleasure, not for endurance.

"Fuck, where're the cups?" Bitty asked a minute later, looking around frantically. All of the cups were on the nightstand across the room. Bitty cursed, pinched the bottom of his cock, and stood.

"Wait, don't stop," pleaded Jack, reaching for him, but Bitty was halfway across the room. Bitty returned quickly and settled back in Jack's lap, bouncing as furiously as he had before. Jack was already at the point of orgasm and came inside Bitty as Bitty, stroking himself in hand, came into a second cup.

"Do you know," panted Jack, "how many times I wanted you to do that to me while we dueled in the courtyard?"

Bitty smiled and leaned forward to give Jack a kiss. "I wager it was every time."

Jack nodded. "You're right."

"Stay there, let me give this to Christopher." 

Bitty stood up, causing Jack to frown; it had felt very good to be inside of him, and now that they were no longer connected, Jack felt quite alone. Bitty poked his head out the door and called for Christopher. A moment later he returned and lay on the rug next to Jack, an arm around Jack's waist, his head on Jack's chest.

"I must admit I enjoy these days," said Bitty. "I know there are people waiting to speak with me and actions I must take, but I enjoy having the excuse to lay near the fire with you."

"As do I," said Jack, and he turned his head to kiss Bitty's hairline. Bitty sighed and shut his eyes. Jack looked to the fire, one of his hands gently running through Bitty's hair, until he felt the moment pass and turned back. "You ready to go again? I'm certain I can best you this time."

"Why are you so insistent on continuing my lesson? Just lay here with me, Sir Knight."

"What if an assassin were to sneak in? Like in that book? I must teach you all that I know so you may protect us."

Bitty sat up, one arm planted by Jack's side, the other still loosely on Jack's waist. Jack had intended it as a joke, but Bitty did not look amused. "Don't jest, Jack. You may think it ridiculous, but I am the king, and I must not think anything ridiculous. I am a king of peace, I know, and this land may have not known war in our lifetime, but threat exists everywhere. You were a knight; you know this."

"Threat may exist, but you are beloved by your people. No one would dare —"

Bitty stood abruptly and walked away, but his voice carried throughout the room. "I am no fool, Jack," he said, and he stopped in front of his armoire. He extracted a robe and pulled it on. Jack did not like the sudden turn of the conversation or that Bitty now covered himself. "I may not have foreign enemies, but we must still consider friendly foes, the ones who whisper of their diseased king, a man who lies with other men and cannot produce an heir on his own."

"You have no disease," said Jack as he sat up on the rug. He did not attempt to cover himself, but Bitty returned to the hearth in his robe and sat upon a chair rather than on the floor with Jack. "Your people are tolerant. They understand —"

"They understand _nothing,_ Jack. I had to marry a woman. I have to put on a farce of a life with her, with someone I do not love, in order to appease them. I knew that she loved Lord Byron when I sent you and your company to propose marriage to her. Lord Byron is a respectable man who comes from a noble family. He is my most trusted advisor and has been since my coronation. He is more than worthy of marriage to Larissa and yet I snatched that life away from him, forced him to live in secret with her, denied him the chance to have children, all because my people are not tolerant."

"I do not think Byron nor Larissa are sad about their life," said Jack.

"It is not the life they should have had," spat Bitty, and he looked away, his arms crossed over his chest. "It is not the life she should have chosen. She should have declined my proposal."

"And that she did not, knowing what it meant, speaks highly of her love for you," said Jack. Bitty harrumphed. Jack shifted to kneel at Bitty's feet. "And you underestimate the love of your people. Perhaps the world is not yet ready for a man to love another man, but they love you, Bitty, and that is what matters. There is no threat here."

"But there still might be," Bitty whispered, and he wiped at his eye as he turned back to look down at Jack. "There may a silent assassin as we lay in our bed. Even if you were to react first, what if you are bested? What would I do if I could not defend you?"

Jack rested his hands on Bitty's knees and gently rubbed them. "I swore an oath to protect you," he said. "That is what I plan to do, regardless if I still hold a position within the brotherhood. And truly, Bitty, I do not know who the Commander of the Guard was for Emperor Vladislav, but if it were me, I'd never let an assassin slip by."

Bitty took in a shaky breath. "I still worry," he said.

"Let me do that," said Jack, and he gave the inside of Bitty's knee a gentle kiss. "Let me take it from you." Jack kissed further up Bitty's thigh before he took hold of the end of the bow in the robe's belt and pulled. Bitty uncrossed his arms and allowed Jack to open his robe, kiss up his thigh, and take Bitty's cock in his mouth. Bitty moaned and relaxed, and Jack extracted the third sample of the day.

***

The appointments with Justin continued several times a week, and they remained difficult. After a particularly brutal session, Jack hobbled to the door and peered out; the hallway was empty, so he took his time crossing it to enter the bathroom. The bath was ready, as requested, so he removed his clothes and climbed in, careful to keep weight off his knee as he did so. He sighed and rested against the ledge of the pool. Delia had scented the water with his lavender oil — he'd grown accustomed to the smell of lavender as much as the unique experience of being completely submersed under warm water. Before moving to the castle, he had never been able to fit all of his limbs in a tub.

He stayed in the bath as long as he could. Delia even left a bucket over the fire so he could warm the water again. His knee felt much better after soaking for long, and Jack kept his eyes closed, hoping the pain would dissipate completely.

The door opened behind him but his eyes remained shut; Delia was there to remind him of his lunch date with the king. He was well aware of the date and hoped he'd be able to calm his aching joints enough before it began. Justin had pushed him hard that day, and as a result he would have to hide his pain.

"I'll get out soon, Delia, give me just another minute," Jack said as footsteps approached. To his surprise, a pair of hands settled on his shoulders. These were not Delia's hands. He opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of Bitty behind him. 

"Are you delaying your appointment with me to soak in the bath?" Bitty teased. He slid his hands down Jack's shoulders and onto his chest. "Mmm, it's still warm. I suppose I wouldn't want to get out either."

"You should join me, my king," said Jack as he settled and closed his eyes.

"You're tempting me, my good sir."

Jack opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at Bitty. "How long has it been since you have been inside of me?" he asked Bitty. "I am warm and relaxed and would not say no to it."

Bitty let out a laugh. "Fine. You've convinced me. Is there more hot water? I wish to stay with you a while."

"I already added it. You could fill it up and put it over the fire again."

Jack expected resistance from Bitty; it was possible the king had never prepared his own bath. He had, however, cooked many meals and desserts in the kitchens, so at the very least he had carried a bucket of this sort before. Jack watched as Bitty filled the bucket with water from the basin and placed it over the fire before he began removing his clothes. Jack stared, a small smile on his face, as the king stripped away his layers of clothing.

"You're staring, Sir Knight."

"You're beautiful, my king."

Bitty rolled his eyes and hopped into the pool with Jack. Jack spread his legs and allowed Bitty to sit between them, his back flush against Jack's chest. 

"Eager already?" Bitty asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. "I just got in."

"You teased me long before you got in."

"I did nothing of the sort, Sir Knight." 

Jack gently kissed the crook of Bitty's neck. Bitty gently sighed as Jack kissed up to his ear and back down to his shoulder, and let out a soft moan when Jack took Bitty's erection in hand and began to gently stroke it under the water.

"Mmm, Sir Knight," Bitty moaned quietly.

"What do you think? Do you wish to take me this time?" Jack asked.

Bitty smiled and Jack kissed the corner of his mouth. Just as he did, however, the door opened again and Delia entered. She let out a gasp at the sight of the king.

"Your majesty, pardon me," she said.

"That's quite all right, Delia, I sneaked my way in here," said Bitty. "Please inform the staff to lunch first as we will be a while."

"Yes, your majesty," said Delia.

"You may leave us."

Delia hurried out of the room and Bitty turned back to Jack. "Where were we?" Bitty asked as he put his arms around Jack's neck and straddled his waist.

"You were about to turn me around."

"Oh, right," said Bitty, and he did just that. Jack knelt over the side of the pool, keeping no weight on his left knee, and moaned loudly when Bitty began to prepare him. Bitty had a tendency to be overzealous in this position, and Jack wondered if that would be the same in the pool, with the water level high and threatening to spill over. 

He was. By the time both of them had come and calmed down, the water was both cold and all over the floor. 

"Oh dear," said Bitty when he looked upon it. "I suppose we should be careful getting out. You first, Sir Knight, and fetch me a warm robe. I'm freezing."

Jack carefully exited the pool; his knee felt much better, although still ached, so he walked carefully so as not to slip and hurt it further. He pulled two towels out of the linen closet as well as Bitty's bath robe, and returned with them. Bitty climbed out of the pool only when Jack was nearby so he could immediately dry himself and dress in his robe. 

"Let's go to my room and warm up," Bitty said. Jack took his hand to lead him over the treacherous flooring, and Bitty did not let go of his hand as they hurried down the hall to Bitty's bedchamber. Once inside, Jack pulled off the towel he'd wrapped around his waist and climbed into the bed. Bitty did not remove his robe as he climbed into the bed as well, and snuggled close to Jack for warmth.

"What ever do you do in winter?" Jack asked, laughing softly as Bitty pulled their blankets tight around them. 

"In winter I wear the thickest of clothing, stay close to the fire, and fill the bed with warmers until I can feel my feet again."

Bitty lay his head on Jack's chest and they were quiet for several moments. Jack felt as if he could doze, both from the long bath and his orgasm, but Bitty spoke again before he could drift off.

"Justin says you are making progress."

Jack snorted. "We're definitely doing something in our appointments. I don't know if I would call it progress."

"Well he says you're doing very well and is optimistic for your future. I think we should try to go for a ride."

Jack did not respond, which caused Bitty to sit up and look down on at him.

"Do you not think it wise?" Bitty asked. "We needn't go far, maybe just a walk to the river and back. Adam says that your mare loves to ride and I know you are dying to take her for one."

"We could try," relented Jack.

"Wonderful! We should invite Larissa and Byron. There's parchment on my desk, write them a note and send it over."

"Are you still too cold to do it yourself?" Jack asked with a laugh.

"You scoundrel, I am your king and I gave you an order!" Bitty commanded. Jack stared at him, unmoving. Bitty slumped his shoulders and wrapped his blankets around him. "Yes."

"Lord, how I love you," said Jack.

Bitty, who had been fussing with his blankets, stopped immediately and looked at Jack. Jack realized what he said and said no more. They stared at each other in silence. 

He should have not admitted it. He was nothing more than a member of the king's staff. The nature of his work was more intimate than the master-of-arms or the cook, but he was still just a servant in the castle. His personal feelings for the king were irrelevant, and love would only get in the way.

Eventually Bitty smiled and pushed him. "Write the damn letter, Dragonslayer. Tomorrow. One o'clock."

Jack sat up and pulled back his covers but before he could exit the bed, Bitty took hold of him and gave him a long, sweet kiss. Jack walked across the room, knowing Bitty watched him, and instead of sitting at the desk, decided it would be better to bend over it and write the short note.

_Would the pair of you care to join us for a ride on the morrow? One o'clock?_

_Jack_

Jack walked back through the room to the window, where he attached the note to the line and sent it away. He turned back to Bitty, who was still staring at him, his eyes hungry. Jack returned to the bed, climbed a top Bitty, and gave him a deep kiss. 

"I know a better way to warm you, your majesty," Jack whispered.

"Then do it, Sir Knight."

Jack threw the covers off the king and kissed him again.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes into detail of his addiction in this chapter. There is no actual overdose in his past, but the addiction is still there.

Jack dreaded his one o'clock meeting with the king. That was a new feeling in association with Bitty; Jack usually looked forward to their time together, and would have preferred it to any other activity. This day, however, Jack sat restless in his room as the time passed. He could not focus on his books, his mind constantly circling back to the bottles of orpheum he'd thrown out the window. He should have kept one. He should have kept at least a little of one so he could take care of the inevitable pain that came with riding a horse.

At one point he put his head out the window, attempting to locate where a discarded bottle could have landed, and if it were such a place that it was not shattered. Unfortunately, Jack's window faced the castle roof and turrets. In every direction Jack could reasonably throw, an object would land on stone. There were also several guards patrolling the turrets, and Jack suddenly worried that he'd hit one of them in his foolish decision.

 _No,_ he thought. _It was the right decision._

He lunched with the staff and then went early to the stables. Chestnut was waiting patiently in her stall, so Jack walked her to the courtyard and brushed her there. He liked being there, not just because of Chestnut, but because of the sun and the atmosphere. Stables never smelled wonderful and he was too close to them to be able to ignore it, but the cobblestone beneath his feet caused Chestnut's shoes to clack soothingly when she moved, and the boys were loud and rambunctious. None of these boys had yet to learn decorum, which would come with time. The pages would become squires, where their youth would be stripped from them the moment they accompanied their knight into battle. The stableboys would serve a worse fate; pages were born of nobility while stableboys were born of stablemen and servants. Everyone was friendly now, but once the stableboys outlived their usefulness, they would return to the town to find useful employment, or would be cursed to a life of no employment at all. Jack hoped they'd at least learn how to read.

Once Jack finished brushing his horse, he saddled her and adjusted her stirrups. The action was so familiar to him, having done this again and again since he was just a child, that for a moment he felt like himself again, like a real knight with a real quest and a real purpose. Then he stepped back and felt the ache begin in his knee, and realized he was a long way off from who he used to be.

"Ah, you're here already," said Bitty from behind. 

Jack turned and smiled at him. Bitty had riding boots and trousers on, much different than his usual royal flair. He looked practically normal, although there was no mistaking his identity; he was extremely clean, well groomed, and stood with perfect posture. Nobody Jack knew had all three. 

"She's a beautiful horse," said Bitty as he approached. Chestnut nudged him, asking for a pet, and Bitty laughed as he ran his hand down her nose. "A little sassy, but beautiful."

"She is," said Jack. "Which horse is yours?"

Bitty turned toward the stable where Adam was sweeping. "Oh my good master," called Bitty. Adam looked up, lowered his broom, and bowed.

"Yes, your majesty, what can I do for you?"

"Can you fetch the horses? The queen, Lord Byron, and I will be taking a ride with the Dragonslayer."

"Yes, at once, your majesty," said Adam, who disappeared into the stable, whistling Jack's ballad as he did. Jack shot a look of disdain to Bitty, who only smiled back at him and pet Chestnut again. A moment later Adam returned with Bitty's horse, a pure black stallion that stood at least sixteen hands, possibly seventeen. It was amusing to see Bitty stand next to him; Bitty barely reached the horse's withers. It seemed much too large for someone of Bitty's stature, but when Bitty approached his horse, he was greeted warmly. 

When Bitty finished greeting his horse, he looked back at Jack. "Bitty," Jack said, his voice low so as not to be overheard by any of those nearby. "That horse is huge."

Bitty pouted. "Quiet. He's beautiful and he has the loveliest temperament."

"Good, because if he were to throw you, we'd need to find ourselves a new king."

"Blackberry would never," said Bitty, and he pet his horse's neck as if Blackberry needed soothing. "And don't you mock me about him, either. Blackberry and I have been together since I learned to ride."

"How old is he?"

"Fifteen," said Bitty. "He was just a colt when I got on his back the first time. He was much smaller then and we grew up together. Well, he grew up much more than I did."

Bitty rested his head against Blackberry's flank, and as he did, his gaze drifted past Jack. His expression turned confused. Jack turned as well to see Lord Byron entering the courtyard alone. "Where is my wife?" Bitty asked as he approached Byron.

"The queen is unfortunately laid up with illness today. She sends her apologies as she very much wished to come."

"Oh, I hope it is nothing too serious," said Bitty.

"Me as well," said Byron. "Ah, my horse. Thank you, Adam. I'm afraid you'll need to put Canto back; the queen will not be joining us today." 

"I'll take him for a run, then. Enjoy your ride, Lord Byron. Your Majesty. Dragonslayer." 

Adam quickly mounted the queen's white horse and clucked his tongue to lead him away at a trot. Lord Byron mounted his own horse, a brown mare, and Bitty did the same. Seeing Bitty mount the large horse was equal parts amusing and arousing. For anyone else, a mounting block would have been necessary, but with the grace of a dancer, Bitty raised his leg high, placed it into the stirrup, and hopped up onto the back of his steed. He turned his horse so he could face Jack; the horse obliged with the slightest of direction.

Jack turned to Chestnut. His entire life he mounted from the left, as was the proper etiquette. There was no way his knee would support his entire weight in such a way. When in a hurry on the road he was able to mount from behind after a run and a leap, but that was also out of the question. He instead circled to Chestnut's right side and assessed the situation; he would have to put weight on his left leg to be able to get his right into the stirrup, and he was not sure if he could handle that.

"I can call for a mounting block," said Bitty. 

"No," replied Jack quickly. "No, I'll try it this way."

He grabbed the reins and the horn, lifted his right leg, and placed it in the stirrup. He could feel a strain in his knee already, but quickly pulled himself up and threw his left leg over the horse's back. He sat down and stifled a sigh of relief to have successfully made it onto the horse. 

He felt uncomfortable immediately. His stirrups were the correct length, but the position of his knee with his heel down hurt already. He turned Chestnut to the right so he could take his leg out of his stirrup without Byron or Bitty seeing that he'd done so.

"Ready?" Bitty asked.

"Lead the way," said Jack. 

They left the courtyard at a walk. With his leg hanging out of the stirrup, it wasn't bad. Chestnut clearly wanted to run, but Jack held her reins with a firm hand and looked over at Bitty. Bitty glanced over his shoulder as the courtyard and its occupants left hearing range. Bitty didn't relax his shoulders, sitting ramrod straight while Blackberry walked at a steady pace beneath him, but relaxed his expression considerably. 

"Jack, tell me truthfully, how are you faring on your horse?"

"I am fine," said Jack. "We are just walking, though. I do not feel as though I can do more than just this."

"We will just walk to the river, then. Byron, tell me of your day."

"Well, I planned to spend a nice long morning with your wife, but she woke up, kicked me in the ribs, and told me she felt like death so I needed to get out of her face."

Bitty nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. Have you seen her since?"

"No, but last I heard from her attendant, she was wrapped in her blanket and painting, so it can't be that bad," said Byron. "Apart from my bruised ribs, and my bruised ego, it was quite a good day. The perfect weather for a ride."

"Indeed. Jack, what have you done today?"

"Pined for you," said Jack with a smile and Byron let out a cackle as Bitty blushed hard.

"I would shake your hand, Sir Knight, if you were closer," said Byron, who was riding on the other side of Bitty. Jack raised his hand in salute instead, and Byron returned it. "What did you do today, Bitty? Was there pining on your side as well?"

Bitty rolled his eyes, still bright red. Byron laughed. "That is enough a confirmation for me! You are a scoundrel, Jack, and I am surprised you can sit upon a horse today, Bits."

"That's enough," said Bitty and he spurred his horse up to a run. Chestnut immediately sped up as well to match Blackberry's speed, causing Jack to press his knees into her side for stability in the sudden shift. A shot of pain shot up his leg and he grimaced, but Chestnut continued forward. Jack attempted to relax and adjust his posture, letting his legs rest. The damage had been done and his leg shot pain again and again with every bounce.

"Chestnut," he said firmly. "Whoa. Enough."

Chestnut listened and slowed back to a trot, which was even worse than the canter. Jack pulled her reins another time and Chestnut reluctantly slowed to a walk. Bitty looked over his shoulder and slowed Blackberry as well.

"Jack, I'm so sorry," he said as he trotted back. "Take your feet out of those stirrups, you don't need them and I can see they pain you."

Jack did as he was told and Bitty circled him so he could move in line with him, their horses closer than before. Bitty reached out his hand and Jack took it. Lord Byron trotted alongside Jack and also held out his hand for Jack to take. Jack looked at it and laughed. 

"How dare you! My delicate emotions, Sir Knight," said Byron as he retracted his hand and held it to his chest as if scorned. Jack carefully set down Chestnut's reins on his saddle, ensuring Chestnut did not take the action as an invitation to speed off again, and held out his hand for Byron to take. Byron did and smiled, and Jack rolled his eyes.

"If you are to love my king, you must love me as well. The queen and I, we are a package deal," said Byron.

"My love for you is as vast as the river we approach," said Jack, and Byron scoffed another time, as they were approaching a river barely wider than a creek. Byron dropped Jack's hand, causing Jack to laugh, and returned to the king's side rather than with Jack. 

They approached the river without much further conversation. Jack had been here many times over the past few months, as it was a manageable walk and Chestnut could graze. She would surely enjoy roaming the riverbank, but Jack was sure he would not be able to return to the castle if he was forced to dismount.

"How is your knee, Jack?" Bitty asked.

"Not the best," said Jack as he suffered greatly.

"Then I will not ask you to dismount and sit by the river with me, but let us stay a while before we return. Byron, entertain us with your latest grievances regarding the nobility in town."

Jack and Bitty sat side by side, still holding hands as Byron began to gossip about the lords and ladies of the High Court. Jack knew some of them, but not all, and it amused him greatly to hear Lord Byron, the king's most trusted advisor, complain how Lady Dougan did not laugh at his bawdy joke, and how the Lord of La Crosse had unnatural proclivities toward the family livestock.

The rest at the river did not do much to improve Jack's leg, although sitting on Chestnut without his foot in a stirrup did not aggravate it further. After Byron discussed the deepest secrets of the nobility for the sake of laughter, they returned to the castle. Chestnut seemed antsy, ready to run at any moment and her bounciness made Jack's knee ache and pain him constantly. 

They returned to the courtyard and Jack realized that he would need to get down. Getting on the horse was not hard, but he could not see a way to get down without putting significant pressure on his already throbbing injury. He chose to watch Bitty instead. Until that moment, he did not think the simple action of dismounting a horse to be sexy, yet everything Bitty did exuded grace and flexibility. Bitty shifted his weight to one leg and lifted the other high, much higher than necessary, his toes in his boots pointed as he did so. He swung his leg over the back of his horse and, as if it took no effort at all, lowered his leg to the ground and softly planted it there, his other foot still high in his stirrup. Bitty's legs, for a moment, were spread obscenely far, and only the pain in Jack's knee prevented him from being aroused by this.

Bitty lowered his other leg, handed the reins to Adam, and stepped over to Jack as Lord Byron dismounted as well. "Can you get down?" Bitty asked gently.

"I'm sure I can, although not nearly as gracefully as you," said Jack.

"I'm getting you a mounting block."

Jack opened his mouth to resist but Bitty put up his hand, and Jack knew better than to talk back in front of others. Bitty called for a mounting block, which a stableboy placed to the left of the horse.

"No," said Bitty. "The other side."

The stableboy ducked under the horse's head and replaced the block. Jack took a deep breath, shifted his weight to his right leg, and swung his left over the back of his horse. The block was an excellent idea, although he didn't care to admit it, and it lessened the pain in his knee when he placed his leg down. He quickly removed his other foot and stepped down to the ground.

"There," said Bitty. "Now you are back on solid ground. It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"No," said Jack with a gentle shake of his head. It was quite the lie, and he knew it would only be worse after climbing the tower stairs. He hoped Bitty had another appointment so Jack could take his time. 

Bitty stepped forward and placed his hand on Jack's arm. "Good," he said. "We should do this again soon, then, but just the two of us. I enjoy the time we spend together in my bedchamber, but it would be a refreshing change of pace to make love in the open air."

Jack smiled. "Soon," he said. Bitty lingered on Jack's arm before he reluctantly let go, looked Jack in the eyes as long as he could, and then entered the castle. Once out of sight, Jack dropped to the mounting block and clutched his knee, breathing hard as the pain threatened to overwhelm him.

***

It took much longer than usual to ascend the tower stairs, but fortunately Jack was able to do it alone. He stopped frequently, rubbed his knee, shifted his weight, and held to the railing when he was able to move again. Once he reached the top he met Delia and ordered a hot bath. She sought to it immediately, and he spent the next hour soaking the pain away. It helped a bit. After the bath he returned to his room, grabbed a book from the shelf, and settled in his bed with his leg propped up on pillows. He did not move until dinner, which was served in Bitty’s bedchamber.

After dinner, Jack and Bitty moved to the armchairs by the hearth, which Jack was silently grateful for as here he could put up his feet. Bitty unearthed a copy of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and insisted Jack read it to him.

"I am not a player nor a poet," said Jack when Bitty handed him the book. "I cannot possibly do it justice. Verse is much more difficult to read than prose."

"Perhaps, but you know I enjoy listening to your voice. Read it to me. I want to know why you liked this Puck character so much that you named your previous horse after him."

Jack began to read. He made no attempt to adjust his voice for the various characters, no matter how much Bitty asked him to, but Bitty hanged on every word. Whenever Jack looked up, Bitty was staring at him, enraptured by the story. Jack had seen the play many times, mostly when he traveled. The theatre in Founders ran it for two of the five years Jack served in the brotherhood, and Jack always stopped for a performance when he was in town. Since Jack was so familiar with this particular story, the words and cadence came easily to him.

It was late and Jack's throat was dry when he finished the play, but he read all five acts to Bitty, who never once shifted or grew bored. Jack had never read a copy of the play, and having it in his hands felt like a rare treat, so despite his thirsty voice, he never thought of stopping. It did not help that Bitty looked beautiful, the firelight flickering on his face, reflecting through his big eyes. Jack may have uttered words that he regretted while they were in bed the night before, but as he shut the book and looked at his king, he realized quickly that what he said matched what he felt. That was dangerous for a concubine.

"Did you enjoy it?" Jack asked after he took a long drink from a goblet of wine. 

"I did. I see your affinity for the Puck, although I must admit I enjoyed the lovers' story more than anything." Bitty looked at the fire, the first time he diverted his attention since Jack began to read. "They found each other in the end, each paired with whom they were meant to be. It may have been messy and unconventional, and required much aid along the way, but they were happy. They found who they were meant to love."

"They did," said Jack.

Bitty stood. "That must be nice," he said quietly. He gave Jack what looked like a forced smile. "Come, Sir Knight, I have been positively desperate for you for at least a full act now."

Jack set the book down. He stood, his knee desperately protesting the action even after the long rest. He barely took a step before Bitty jumped into his arms, causing pain to explode in his knee. He did not want Bitty to know. He did not want to outwardly express the piercing, throbbing, aching pain in his leg, so he carried Bitty as quickly as possible to the bed and threw him on it.

"On your knees, Sir Knight," said Bitty, directing Jack onto his front. Jack took in a quiet breath, bracing himself for what was to come, and raised onto his knees. Bitty touched him gently between the legs, but barely got a finger inside when Jack, practically shaking from pain, had to collapse onto the bed again.

"Jack?" Bitty asked. "Are you all right?"

"I can't," he said, panting. He had tears in his eyes but hid his face so Bitty would not know. "My knee. I'm sorry."

"Jack," said Bitty with admonishment. "You said your knee was fine. Were you lying to me?"

Jack turned his face and looked at Bitty. Bitty could see the pain in an instant and frowned.

"I knew it. I knew you were lying to me. Come now, on your back, let's prop your leg up." Jack begrudgingly turned onto his back and allowed Bitty to put a pillow beneath his leg. Bitty sat there and gently touched the skin around the joint; just the touch caused Jack to wince. "You should have told me. I would not have pushed you to do anything had you said it hurt. Where is your orpheum? I'll have Christopher bring it —"

"No," said Jack through gritted teeth.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jack. You're clearly in pain. I want you to take some and go right to sleep —"

"I can't," said Jack, and he put his hand over his eyes to hide the expression in them. "I don't have any."

"When did you run out? I'll call Justin —"

"I never took it," Jack said. "I can't. I — I need to tell you something."

Jack lifted his hand and looked at Bitty, whose expression was a mix of concern and disappointment. Jack did not wish to see it, as he knew his story would just remove the concern and intensify the disappointment, so he covered his eyes again. "You've touched the scar on my forehead. I never told you the story of it."

"You did not," said Bitty. "And you will look at me as you tell me."

Jack removed his hand and looked at Bitty. He was beautiful, as always, sitting naked on the bed, waiting rather impatiently for Jack to explain a story he had never wished to tell. Jack reached forward and took Bitty's hand; Bitty let him.

"I was seventeen, still a squire but nearing a time when I could be knighted. There was no doubt that I would be, as my father held a high position in the brotherhood and many looked forward to the day that I could join him. I was with my father, accompanying him on a mission to Faber when a snake spooked my horse and I was thrown. I hit a rock as I landed and cut open my hairline here. It was not the worst injury I have received —" Jack gestured to his knee. "— but it was not pleasant. I was brought to a doctor and given stitches, but I suffered greatly from headaches in the following days. I was given orpheum as a means to relieve the pain."

Jack paused. Bitty gripped his hand. "Tell me," Bitty said.

"The orpheum did not help much, so instead of the spoonful I was instructed to take, I took two. And then sometimes three or four or even more. My headaches cleared and my wound repaired over the coming weeks, but I was unable to function unless I had orpheum in my system. I was unable to think or act without it, and when I ran out and was not granted another bottle, I did all I could to procure more. I sneaked into the doctor's house at night and stole as much as I could. I was… I was not myself, and my behavior reflected that."

"Yet you still became a knight," said Bitty.

"I was confined to my home and endured a slow and torturous recovery from my addiction. I did recover, however, but the commanders of the High Court refused to let me take the oath. My father was furious, as he was practically their equal from his experience and achievements. He took the matter to the king, your father, but your father died before the audience was held. From the shock of his passing and the celebration of your coronation, my disgrace seemed to be swept under the rug. My father was granted his audience with you once you were crowned, and you permitted me the knighthood."

"Hmm," said Bitty. "I do not remember this."

"I was knighted less than a week after your coronation. It does not surprise me that you do not remember. The commanders of the High Court were not pleased by this, but you had knighted me, so they had no grounds to object. They assigned me to the road, to travel endlessly so they did not need to see me. It was not until my encounter with the Ace of Spades that I was granted favor in their eyes, and even so, it was not until I slayed the dragon that they accepted me as one of their own."

"So this is your great secret?" Bitty asked. "That you fell victim to the seduction of orpheum after a grave injury? My dear knight, you are not the first."

"But it a disgrace that has haunted me to this very day," said Jack.

Bitty shifted forward and rested his head on Jack's chest. "I may not remember meeting with your father, but I would have listened to his plea and made the decision I felt was right. I made the decision to knight you, so whatever happened before that moment is irrelevant. You were dubbed Sir Jack of Samwell, and Sir Jack of Samwell you are."

Jack took in a deep breath and felt Bitty plant a gentle kiss on his chest. "I still do not wish to take it," he said. "I do not trust the way that it makes me feel."

"I understand," said Bitty. "Do you want me to call for Justin? Perhaps he has something else you can use that is not orpheum."

"Not tonight."

Bitty adjusted his head on Jack's chest. "That's fine with me. I'd much rather lay here with you instead." They were quiet. Jack's knee continued to throb, but the pain seemed to be dissipating. "Jack, why were you so afraid to tell me?"

"It is something I am afraid to tell anyone who does not know. It is something I do not wish to remember, but it's been at the forefront of my mind since December, when I suffered my injury. I thought of what I would do if I were you. I do not think I would be as forgiving."

"Do you think me so cruel?"

"No, I know you are not cruel, but my mind always finds the worst outcome. I was convinced you would be forced to relieve me of my duties, and I would be back to where I was before, trying to figure out how to make a living."

Jack felt Bitty stiffen but could not determine the reason for the tension. He looked down at Bitty, who sat up again, this time taking the blanket from the bed and wrapping it around himself. "So you were concerned I would dismiss you from your post," said Bitty. His voice was icy and Jack, again, could not understand why.

"Yes, I was," said Jack. "I've tried considerably over the past months to please you, and I worried all of that would be in vain if you discovered this about me."

"I see," said Bitty. He rolled to the side and climbed out of the bed. Jack attempted to sit up but his knee protested the action. "So you are most concerned about your livelihood."

With an icy chill down his throat, Jack began to understand Bitty's sudden temperament. "No, Bitty —"

Bitty turned sharply, his expression hard, the blanket covering his body completely. "You told me earlier this evening that you are not a player, not a poet, yet you have played your role most convincingly. Is anything you have said to me while we were in this bedchamber the truth?" he asked. "Not about your past, not facts. I mean your feelings. When you…" 

Jack swallowed hard when Bitty's voice broke with unshed tears.

"When you said that you love me, was that just fulfilling your job duties?"

"No. My job is to please you, but —"

"Yes, your job is to please me. It is your job to ensure that no matter what, I feel as though you love me, regardless if you do. Well good work, Sir Knight. I believed fully that you truly loved me. My Lord, I am such a fool."

"Bitty —"

"That is enough 'Bitty' from you. That name is reserved for people who care about me, and I cannot believe that you do. You may rest here if you wish, as I will not in good faith ask an injured man to move, but I will not stay. Thank you for your service this evening, Sir Knight. It was most illuminating."

"No, Eric, I do care for you. Please let me explain."

"That is enough," said Bitty. "I've extended an unnecessary kindness to you; do not make me regret that I have done so."

Bitty wrapped his blanket tightly around himself and left the room without looking back.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Jack did not stay in the king's bedchamber for long. As soon as his knee permitted, he rose from the bed, redressed, and returned to his room. Delia must have been certain he'd stay the night with Bitty, as the fire was out. The castle kept in the cold so even on warm summer nights, a fire was necessary. He did not want to light a fire himself, but the alternative was to ring for Delia, and he wanted even less to explain to her what happened. Furthermore, he was not certain how long he would be allowed to stay. If Bitty did not want him, he could be removed from the castle at any moment. He could potentially go home for the night as he was certain his house in town remained unoccupied, but he was in too much pain to attempt to leave. Instead he lit the fire, entered his bed, and closed his eyes.

Sleep did not come. The bed was cold and uncomfortable and he was unable to control his thoughts from spinning back to his error with Bitty. He had been so relieved that Bitty did not think his dependency on orpheum was a problem, yet that relief did not last for long. He had let his guard down, allowed himself to relax and feel as though he were with a lover rather than a king. He referred to his position as a position rather than what he truly felt, which was nothing but love for the man he had, until that night, shared a bed with.

He wished to toss and turn beneath his covers, but his knee protested every movement. He remained on his back, his leg propped up on a pillow, staring at the ceiling or at the portrait of his family near the window. He stared at his father, the portrait flickering in the firelight, and wondered how disappointed the man must have been. Sir Robert had jeopardized his career to ensure Jack could have a future. Jack remembered that day, just hours after the coronation, when Jack sat on his bed in the family home, his knees pulled up to his chest, waiting for his father to return from the audience. His mother sat with him, her hand rubbing his back, assuring him that it would be all right, and that he would be all right. He'd felt so low in that moment, just weeks from his last dose of orpheum, shaking with want. He was nearly a man yet he sat on his childhood bed with his mother comforting him, praying that he would have the future he'd always dreamed of, yet squandered away of his own accord.

All of that worry, all of that work that Sir Robert had done, and Jack was still dismissed from the brotherhood, and now lay unwanted in the castle, a failure of a whore as well.

The clock in the hallway chimed twice, signaling two o'clock in the morning. Jack, still unable to sleep, swung his legs over the side of the bed and carefully hobbled toward the fireplace. The flames had shrunk to embers, but after some poking and a few new logs, Jack was able to get it crackling again. He used the poker for support as he walked to his desk. He had no occasion for correspondence since entering the castle, as he had no lasting relationships outside of it. 

He paused for a moment, parchment in hand. He supposed he had no lasting relationships inside of it, either.

He dipped a quill into a well of ink and began to write.

_My dearest majesty, King Eric the First —_

_I hope that you will give these words your time and attention, as I write from the heart, not as a member of your staff._

_I would have said these words to you in your presence, however I have been told since my youth that I have never been good at expressing myself verbally. Indeed it is true; this letter will go through many edits prior to reaching your hands, because I am unable to truly convey what I mean without careful examination._

_I do not remember a time when I did not wish to be a knight. It is among my earliest memories, seeing my father return from a mission with the respect of the people. I remember how I would come at him with my little wooden sword and he would teach me how to stand or hold the hilt. I followed in his every footstep, idolizing him, and ultimately owing him the greatest of thanks for convincing you that, despite my disgrace, I still deserved a title._

_You said that you do not remember my knighting. I do. I remember you were young, small, and nervous. I remember that I would do anything to protect you. When you told me to arise, Sir Jack, I looked you in the eyes. I looked into those eyes again the day of my audience, and in that moment, in the throes of passion with an unnamed individual, I wished for nothing more than to be near you always. I could not tell you why then, but I wished desperately that you would pick me, not because I needed employment. I wished desperately to love you, my king, because you deserve all the affection and warmth in the world._

_I do not remember a time when I did not wish to be a knight, but as I write this, I do not wish for anything other than to see you smile, to rest my hand upon your face, and to tell you with no hesitation, no pretense, that I love you._

_I love you, my king, not because I swore an oath of fealty. I did swear it. I swore to obey your commands and to protect you with my life, from the moment you lay your sword upon my shoulder to the moment I will take my last breath. I stand by this oath. I will serve you until the end of my days. But I also will love you until the end of my days._

_You may continue to doubt my sincerity. I know not what I can do to earn your trust, but I will strive to earn it continuously until I have it, and once I do, I will swear another oath to you, one more important than that of a Knight of the High Court — I will swear to never give you cause to lose it again._

_You may wonder what it is that has awakened these feelings within me. Is it just a result of being so intimate with you for months? For placing myself inside of you and taking you inside of me? It is not that, my dear king. I have enjoyed our physical intimacy, for you are a beautiful man, but I love you for many additional reasons. I love you for the way you eat your meals in my presence, your leg pulled up onto your chair. I love you for the way you sleep, your blankets covering all of you apart from the crown of your head, and the little blond tuft I can see when I awake in the morning. I love you for the way you love your people, how you have married a woman you have no romantic attraction to because it makes the most sense for your kingdom. I love the way you love your wife despite no romantic attraction. The two of you make a great pair, and it is clear that you care deeply for each other._

_I love how you look at me when I read to you. I love how you bake delicious foods although it is not necessary to do so. I love how you ride a gigantic horse just because it was yours as a child. I love how you rest your head against my chest when we talk before sleep. I love how you sit atop my lap as we make love and your face turns to bliss as you let yourself go completely. I am of the privileged few who get to see this side of you, and I will always feel blessed to have experienced it._

_I love you, Bitty. And I do truly care for you._

_If I have not convinced you, I will leave your kingdom and make a new life somewhere else. I will banish myself. I will be but a memory to you, and hopefully a distant one. Command what you will, my king, my liege, my Bitty, and I will obey._

_Jack_

***

Jack's knee felt better in the morning, although the rest of him did not. He managed to fall asleep after he wrote his letter, but he awoke just a few short hours later by Delia bringing a breakfast tray into the room. His eyes opened suddenly and regretfully; he did not feel the least bit rested, and furthermore, the memory of his argument with Bitty the night before came in waves of guilt. He should not have stayed the night, even in his own bed. It was not his bed after all.

"Good morning, Sir Knight," she said with a smile that told him she did not know of the quarrel. "How is your knee today?

"It aches, but it could be worse," said Jack as he carefully sat up. It was the truth; his knee did feel better than it had the night before.

"The physician will be here after lunch for your rehabilitation appointment." 

"Ugh," said Jack. Delia smiled at him and approached the bed. Seeing that he wore clothes, she fluffed the sheets and pillows around him. 

"Come now, Sir Knight, you complain much less of your pain since you've been meeting with the physician. You'll be back to yourself in no time, you'll see. Why, I gather by the time we have a child in the tower, you'll be able to ride a horse at full gallop."

Jack did not respond. He did not want to tell Delia of the quarrel, but he also did not wish to keep it from her. "Delia," he said, drawing her attention at once. "There is a letter on my desk for the king. Can you see to it that it is delivered?"

"A letter? Why ever — I shouldn't pry. I have no reason to know what your letter contains. I'll bring it to him once I am finished here. Can I get you anything else? I've drawn a bath for you, extra hot to soothe your knee."

"Thank you," said Jack. "I'll eat and bathe shortly."

"Are you all right, Sir Knight?" she asked. Jack forced a smile. "There is no need to mask your pain with me. I am here to serve you, and I can serve you best when I know what you need. The physician gave you medicine, did he not? Where is it, I can —"

Jack grimaced. "No, no, I'm all right. I just did not sleep well."

Delia immediately stopped fluffing. "I'm terribly sorry, Sir Knight! You should have said something at once. Your appointment is not until the afternoon, and I'm sure the king will be busy all day. There is no reason you need to be awake. Go back to sleep."

"No, no, I'm awake," said Jack. "Thank you, Delia."

"Of course," she said. "I'll leave you, Sir Knight, and if after your bath you wish to sleep again, I'll ensure that no one disturbs you."

Jack held her gaze for far longer than he needed. He'd grown exceptionally fond of Delia during his summer at the castle. It made him miss his mother so — and he held back tears as he thought about her again. Delia returned his sad smile, picked up his letter, and left the room without another word. Once the door shut, he hopped out of the bed, ignoring the pain in his leg, and stuffed fruit and eggs into his mouth. He took his robe from the closet and crossed the hall, where he bathed quickly and efficiently. He did not linger long, just enough to clean himself.

He was about to leave when his eyes landed on the oil shelf. He searched for the bottle labeled _cedarwood,_ grasped it in his hand, and hurried back to his room. 

There was not much he wished to take with him. As grand as the room had been, he held no attachment to it. He dressed quickly in his most durable clothing and strongest boots, then packed a small satchel with everything he wished to bring along: the cedarwood oil, a warm cloak, and the doublet from Bitty's birthday feast — the buttons would be worth much. He removed his sword and shield from their mount on his wall as well as his family portrait.

He surveyed the room to see if there was anything else. His eyes landed on a book he'd read to Bitty — _The Tides of Conquest: The Story of Emperor Vladislav._ He did not wish to take it with him, but he set it upon the bed, as a message, in case Bitty cared that he was gone. After placing the book, he carefully opened the door and peered out of it. The hallway was empty; the staff was preparing breakfast and would soon feast together.

It was fortunate that his door was so close to the stairs. He hopped to them in three steps and hurried down. His knee protested the action but he fought through the discomfort until he reached the second level. He descended the back stairs to the kitchens, where the castle cooks were busy making breakfast for the rest of the staff. Jack hurried by them but stopped at the pantry. He took a bag of oats and a few carrots for his horse before he left the castle, attempting to hide the load he carried.

The courtyard was still empty, and the morning carried a haze of not-yet day. He could see it in the trees and in the garden. He could feel it in the air, just slightly colder than expected. He could feel it in his bones; he very much wanted to go back to sleep. Instead he entered the stable and found Chestnut, still asleep in her stall. Jack touched her face and she awoke, shook her head, and nudged him. "Good morning," he whispered to her. "We're going on an adventure today. I hope you're ready to run."

Chestnut just nudged him again. He gave her a carrot to eat before he saddled her. His satchel easily fit upon her, and so he filled the rest of her bags with the oats, carrots, and a few grooming tools, then hesitated. It was time to mount. 

"Oh, fuck it," he whispered. He left the stall, picked up a mounting block, and used it to get upon her back. It was much easier than trying to mount from the ground, and he cursed himself for allowing his pride to get in the way of its use the day before. Perhaps if he had, he would not be leaving at all.

Chestnut trotted out of the stable and he led her around the perimeter of the castle. The easiest way out of Samwell was to the south, but first he needed to leave through the front gate. The guards there did not know him well enough to inquire why he was leaving, nor would they necessarily care. No one cared who left the castle; it was only those who entered who needed to state their purpose. 

He heard the voices halfway to the entrance, and while voices should not have deterred him from his escape, he heard part of something that caused him immediate pause: "—can avenge the Ace after what was done to him."

Jack pulled back the reins and leaned forward to soothe Chestnut, who clearly wished to continue on. "Shh," Jack whispered to her, and he led her at a slow walk to the window. While upon her back he was able to see just inside. He pet Chestnut on her neck to keep her quiet. He did not want his presence revealed before he determined what exactly he overheard.

He peered inside; it was a workroom full of thread and fabric. Jack could see a wooden desk and half-finished doublets on a form. Behind the desk sat Carlton, the Master of Wardrobes, who was speaking to someone Jack could not see. 

"Christopher said there was a quarrel last night. Something serious; the king spent the evening in the Queen's Tower. He'll be alone, no doubt," said the other man. Jack tried to place the voice, but he could not.

"You're sure of this?" asked Carlton.

"It is possible there may be a reconciliation later, which is why now is the best time. The staff will break their fast together in the king's private dining room. The tower will be otherwise empty; no one will see you enter or leave."

"But someone will know that it has been done when they discover the body," said Carlton. "They will look for intruders, and I can not guarantee I will not be seen entering or leaving the tower."

"They quarreled. Strike quick and you can position the body as if the wound were self-inflicted. It would be a surprise but not outside the realm of possibility."

"Hmm," said Carlton and he looked away from his conversation partner; Jack ducked his head, his heart beating fast, but it did not seem as though he were seen. "That could work. He would not suspect me."

"There is a sword about the hearth in Jack's room. It was a gift from the king when he was knighted. Take it; it will be perfect."

Carlton laughed and Jack's blood went cold. "You are a genius. Go, return to the tower. I'll be along shortly."

Jack looked both ahead to the castle gate, and then behind him toward the stable. The choice was clear; he hurried away from the window and kicked Chestnut in the side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter (and epilogue) left to go! Thanks for those of you who have stuck through the updates this holiday season. The final chapter and epilogue will go up on New Year's Eve.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have expected, there's quite a bit of violence in this chapter, so be forewarned :)

Jack kicked Chestnut again; he needed to get back to the tower immediately. He ignored the pain shooting up from his left leg as Chestnut galloped alongside the castle and back toward the stables. He did not stop until he was right at the door, causing the boys to shout in surprise. 

"Sir Knight!" said Adam from inside the stable, a delightful smile upon his face. "You are riding again! Look at you!"

"Please take her, I'll be back," said Jack as he dismounted painfully and tossed the reins to a nearby page. He ran inside, ignoring Adam's questions, and swiftly ascended all the way up to the top of the tower.

The hallway was empty, as the informant said. Jack did not run into whomever this treasonous staff member was, but he was not looking hard. He needed to see Bitty. He needed to protect Bitty. There was no other goal but to ensure the life of the king. He ran down the rich red carpet of the hallway and directly into Bitty's room, but he paused once inside. The room was empty. If Bitty had spent the night in the Queen's Tower, he was either still there, or he'd gone to the Great Hall already to begin his day. Jack, breathing hard, grasped his throbbing knee and looked about, his mind racing with possibility. 

If the king was in the Great Hall, Jack had no business there, and he would be well guarded. Jack could send a message through Oliver, or he could go to the brotherhood directly. Sir Hall or Sir Murray would likely be in the Commander's room on the first floor. If the king was still in the Queen's Tower, however, Jack would need to warn him. Larissa and Byron would not object to his presence.

That was what he would do; he would go to the Queen's Tower first, and if Bitty was gone, he'd alert Sir Hall and Sir Murray of the plot.

He turned to leave the room, but as he did, Carlton opened the door and smiled.

"Ah, Sir Knight, you are here," he said, his voice casual and pleasant. It was a tone very unlike him. Jack's eyes narrowed. "I went to your room just now, but you were not there, so I came here instead. I hope you do not mind the hour of my visit, but I was commissioned by the king —"

Jack drew his sword from its scabbard upon his hip.

"You were commissioned by the Ace of Spades," growled Jack.

Carlton dropped all pretense and drew a sword from the statue next to the door. "I am relieved you figured it out. I did not wish to spend another moment attempting to be pleasant toward you, you royal whore."

"Royal whore or not, you will not leave this room alive. You wish to duel me with a dull sword? I will best you in no time."

Carlton smiled and tested the edge of the sword. "Ah, but you see, I have prepared for this."

Jack furrowed his brow and lifted his sword to the ready. "No matter how prepared you are, you will not touch the king."

Carlton snorted. "The king?" he asked. "Come now, Sir Whore, even I am not stupid enough to attempt to assassinate the king. I am here for you."

Jack adjusted his grip on his sword. His feet were planted at the ready, but his knee screamed at him. He did not know how long he could stand, much less duel. "Me?" he asked. 

"Yes, you, imbecile. I do not know what you have learned, but I can tell you this: the Ace of Spades is my dearest friend, and I will not, under any circumstance, allow the man who crippled him to stay alive. I know your weakness, Sir Whore. I know you will not last a minute in a duel with me. Allow me to run you through. Take your punishment like a true Knight of the High Court."

"So you can make it look as though I took my own life? I think not."

"This is boring," said Carlton and he lunged. Jack parried but pain shot up his leg. Carlton had been right; he would not last long in this fight. Jack went for Carlton's open shoulder but missed; Carlton swiped low and Jack just got his sword down in time to block a sweep to his injured leg. Jack spun out of the way, his knee howling, and struck again, but Carlton met his blow. It continued on: a thrust, a parry, a riposte, a thrust, a parry, a riposte, until Jack was limping so horribly he felt as though he leg would give out at any moment.

"You are tiring, Sir Knight," said Carlton with a smile. "Give up and let me win."

"No," said Jack and thrust again. Carlton blocked easily. The room began to resemble the courtyard, the pain causing his vision to haze like the morning light. Jack's blocks were becoming weaker, his thrusts more inaccurate. He would surely lose, but he would lose with honor.

"Just fucking fall already!" Carlton yelled and thrust again. Jack blocked with his sword and his knee quit; he fell back onto the ground. "Thank you!"

Jack blinked; the haze cleared enough for him to see Carlton step forward to end Jack's life, but then, Carlton's head flew off his shoulders and his body collapsed like a pile of rags onto the floor. His fall revealed Bitty, the ceremonial sword from the other statue in his hand.

"Bitty," Jack panted, and he grimaced hard as he tried to move.

"Are you hurt?" Bitty gasped, his sword clattering to the ground as he rushed forward to Jack's side.

"No, no, it's just my knee —"

"CHRISTOPHER!" Bitty yelled toward the open door and then placed one hand on Jack's shoulder, the other hovering over Jack's knee, as if afraid to touch it. "What happened? Why was Carlton —"

"He's a member of the Spades. He was here to avenge my crippling of the Ace."

"A Spade?" Bitty gasped. 

"Your majesty?" Christopher asked as he ran into the room. He gasped at the side of the headless Master of Wardrobes upon the floor, slowly bleeding out onto the hearth rug. "What has happened?"

"Carlton made an attempt on Jack's life. Go get Justin immediately; he is in the Queen's Tower. Tell him to bring something for pain. Not orpheum. Jack is fine but his knee is not."

"Yes, your majesty, at once," said Christopher and he left in a hurry.

Bitty turned back to Jack. "Jack," he said, tears in his eyes. He placed his hands on the sides of Jack's face. "Jack, I am so sorry. I am _so_ sorry."

"I am all right," said Jack.

"Not only about this. I received your letter while I was with the queen. She… she is with child."

Jack drew in a sharp breath and nodded. His vision clouded with tears. "I can leave. I'll leave immediately. I had planned to already —"

"Don't you dare, you fool," said Bitty and he kissed Jack hard. Tears fell from Jack's eyes as he grasped Bitty firmly, pulling him close. Bitty let go and rested their foreheads together. "I love you. I am sorry I doubted you."

"I am sorry I was not clear with my intentions. I love you. Because I want to. Not because I am supposed to."

Jack placed his hand upon Bitty's, basking in the admission, but the door swung open and disturbed their peace. Justin and Christopher entered the room. Justin looked at the headless man upon the floor. "I can't fix that," he said. 

"I meant Jack," Bitty said, exasperated. "His knee is all but a lost cause. What did you bring?"

"Orpheum truly is the best —"

"No orpheum," said Bitty with finality.

"I have another elixir, less potent but also less effective. It can take the edge off while I prepare a salve." 

Bitty looked to Jack, who nodded desperately. Justin filled a spoon with such elixir and fed it to Jack; the taste was deplorable. It was definitely not orpheum. "Let's get you to the bed," Justin said. "Stay off your knee today." Justin and Christopher assisted Jack into the king's bed, where Bitty hovered, fixing pillows and ensuring Jack's comfort.

"I am thankful this is over," said Bitty, nodding to the body on the floor. "That is enough excitement for me in a day's time."

"Wait!" Jack said suddenly as Justin and Christopher made to remove the body. "Wait, he did not act alone. Bitty, there is a spy in the tower. Carlton was told when I would be alone."

"A spy? In my tower?" Bitty asked, his face blanching. "Who is it?"

"I do not know; I did not recognize his voice. It has to be one of the staff. He will have a mark upon him, like Carlton surely does. All of the Spades have branded themselves."

Justin and Christopher searched Carlton's body and discovered a brand in the shape of a spade on his right shoulder blade.

"Christopher, the staff, they are still in the dining hall?"

"Yes," said Christopher.

"Remove the body at once and call them in here. Cover the stain somehow, I do not wish them to suspect that anything is afoot. I doubt my ruse will work, however; if Jack was to be murdered, the fact that he is not will surely be dubious."

"Set me on the stain," said Jack. "Remove the body and set me on the stain as if I am dead. Ask them all questions; I will be able to identify the spy by his voice. Bitty, you will need to fake grief."

"I do not need to fake anything," said Bitty, his eyes still heavy with tears as he touched Jack on the side of the face. 

Justin and Christopher removed the body with haste, and Jack, with Bitty's assistance, lay face-down upon the floor and shut his eyes. Bitty bent over him, his head on Jack's back. Jack could hear Bitty's rattling breath; he truly did not need to feign his grief.

Christopher led in the remainder of the staff, although Jack could not see them. A series of gasps alerted their presence. "What has happened?" a voice asked, loud and disgusted. It was not the voice Jack overheard.

"An assassin has murdered Sir Jack," said Christopher. "You were all in the hall with me when it occurred. Was anything afoot before breakfast?"

"No," said another voice. "There was no one besides the staff."

"Tony? Did you see anything?"

"No, nothing."

"Scraps?"

"I saw nothing, Christopher," said Scraps, and Jack opened his eyes immediately. There was no doubt in that voice, especially after saying Christopher's name. 

"Him!" Jack whispered to Bitty.

Bitty sat up. "This is not the place to hold an inquiry, Christopher," he said in a heavy voice and wiped his eyes. "Leave us, all of you. Except you, Scraps. Stay behind."

Jack did not expect Scraps to stay without a fight. Surely enough, a scuffle began and Bitty shouted, "Seize him!"

Jack sat up at once to see; Scraps was headed for the door, but Will, Derek, Connor, Tony, and Christopher were all upon him and tackled him to the floor. "Search his body!" Jack said. "He will have a mark as well."

It did not take long to find the brand of the spade low upon his hip. Tony gasped. "Scraps! How could you? The Spades? Do you have no honor at all?"

Scraps struggled; Jack recognized him now that he could see the man's face and the long scar from the inside corner of his eye down to his jawline. Try as he might, however, Scraps could not free himself from the grip of the others. 

"Sir Jack!" said Will with surprise. "You're not dead!"

"Carlton is dead," said Jack directly to Scraps, who narrowed his eyes. "We could get no such information from him, but you we will keep alive. I need to know where the Ace of Spades is hiding."

"I will die first," said Scraps.

"Make no mistake. You will die, but on my terms," said Bitty. "Take him to the dungeon. We shall deal with him later."

The staff, apart from Christopher, left the room. Jack looked down at himself; he was covered in Carlton's blood and desperately needed a bath. Fortunately, whatever elixir Justin had given him seemed to help with the pain, and he no longer felt overwhelmed by it. "You need a bath, Sir Knight," said Bitty. "Christopher, can you order one prepared?"

"Yes, of course," said Christopher.

Christopher left the room to prepare the bath. Bitty turned to Jack again. "Jack," he said. "Thank you."

"I did nothing."

"You overheard a plot, even if it was on your own life, and revealed two Spades who were in my employ. I did not think it possible, but it seems we must inspect every person in the castle. You have fulfilled your oath to me and you are not even a knight."

"It does not matter. My oath was until my dying breath. I have not breathed my last yet."

Bitty stared at him, his expression unreadable, as if in deep thought. He suddenly stood and Jack looked up at him. Bitty held himself with the utmost dignity, a stance he took in front of his subjects but never when they were alone. "As the queen is with child, I am no longer in need of a concubine," he said, and dread filled Jack's chest despite all that had occurred that morning. "I relieve you of your duties, Jack, but ask you a significant personal favor."

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"Move in here with me. Delia can still attend to you as necessary, but I want you as my lover — my actual love. Not just a thing that I can use for pleasure."

Jack's eyes filled with tears again and he nodded. "I will do whatever you wish, because I have no desire but to be with you," he said.

Bitty smiled. "I think you do, Sir Knight."

"What is that?"

"Christopher!" Bitty called. 

Christopher entered the room at once. "Yes, your majesty?" he asked.

"Find whoever is nearby and tell them to come at once," Bitty said. 

"Yes, your majesty," said Christopher before he exited the room. 

Jack turned to Bitty. "What is this?" Jack asked.

"Silence," ordered Bitty with a smile. Jack did not say a word as several of the tower staff entered the room, including Delia. Many of them were still escorting Scraps to the dungeon, but those who remained looked at Jack with a mixture of disgust and concern. 

"What has happened?" Delia asked with impatience. "Sir Knight, are you hurt? You are covered in blood."

"My dear Delia, I will explain in due time," said Bitty. "For now come, stand among us, please." 

The staff walked toward the hearth and Jack made to stand as well. Bitty held out a hand to stop him. "No, not you. How is your knee now? Is the pain still overwhelming?"

"No," said Jack. "It is better."

"Then kneel," said Bitty, and he gestured for Jack's sword, which lay forgotten at the foot of the fire. Christopher picked it up and handed it to Bitty. 

Jack did as instructed. Bitty set the tip of the sword on Jack's left shoulder. Jack's heart began to beat hard at once; there was no doubt what was about to happen, and he was determined not to cry. "Jack of Samwell, you had once sworn an oath to this land and this crown, and by means beyond your control, you were released from your duty. Is it your desire to swear your oath again?"

"Yes, your majesty," said Jack, trying dutifully to maintain composure within his voice.

"And do you swear, like you stated in your letter, to say these words with sincerity, and to never give cause to lose the trust you have so rightfully earned?"

"I do, your majesty."

"Then repeat after me. I, Jack of Samwell, pledge my sword and shield to my kingdom. I will defend my land with valor. I will protect my king and my queen with my very life. I will uphold the values of the brotherhood: compassion to all those I meet, righteousness in my quests, faith in my liege, and integrity in all that I say and do. As I have pledged myself today, I will keep my oath with certainty and dignity, until my dying breath."

Jack repeated the oath, his voice straining with each word.

"And furthermore," Bitty said, "I will love my king until the end of my days."

Jack smiled and looked up into Bitty's eyes as he repeated, "I will love my king until the end of my days."

Bitty tapped his shoulder; Jack bowed his head again. "Then by my crown I dub thee Sir Jack of Samwell, the Dragonslayer."

Bitty tapped Jack's left shoulder then arched over Jack's head to his right, which he tapped as well. "Arise, Sir Jack, a Knight of the High Court."

Jack stood, stepped forward, and kissed Bitty hard on the mouth. Their audience applauded; Delia was in tears. 

Bitty pulled away, smiling widely, his eyes shining. "I love you," Bitty whispered.

Jack repeated after the king, for it was an oath he would take to his grave.

***

"Like this?"

Jack repositioned his arms to a more natural position, however both of them continued to feel out of place. His left arm he bent in front of him, loosely holding the placket of his doublet. His right hand rested upon his desk; he attempted to keep the tension from his fingers, but he had no idea what he was doing or how he looked.

Larissa peered from behind her easel and smiled warmly at him. "Yes, that works. You look good, Lord Commander."

 _Lord Commander,_ he thought. It had only been one day since the title had been bestowed upon him, and it still felt odd to know it belonged to him. _Sir Knight_ had not taken long to accept, perhaps because he had been expecting and longing for such a title throughout his youth. _Lord Commander of the Royal Guard_ was unexpected.

He was still settling into his office, a room on the first floor near the entrance to the dungeons. It was well furnished when he arrived, but the addition of his shield and sword as well as a few choice paintings from the King's Tower began to make it feel more like home. Larissa insisted this was the perfect time to complete his portrait, and Jack did not wish to refuse such a gift.

"I admit, my queen, that I have not been painted since I was a child, and I barely remember the day. Am I allowed to speak to you or will that ruin your work?"

"The day will pass much more smoothly if we converse," said Larissa. "I would ask that you do not move, however, so I may capture your stance appropriately. When I sketch your face I will ask you to remain silent, but it will not take long. Otherwise we may discuss whatever you wish, Lord Jack, because it has been many a day since I have last seen you."

"It has indeed," said Jack. "I must congratulate you on your pregnancy, Larissa. I know Bitty is overjoyed."

"He has not stopped talking about it since I told him," said Larissa with a laugh.

"Are you pleased?"

"Of course," said Larissa. "It is my duty to produce an heir for the king. Once it is done, I can focus on what I wish to accomplish during my reign, rather than what is expected of me."

"Yes, but are you pleased?" Jack asked again. "You are to be a mother, Larissa. You are to have a child. Is that something you are happy about?"

Larissa paused and looked Jack directly in the eyes. "Yes, Jack, I am."

"Good," said Jack. "I am quite pleased for you. Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?"

"I don't have a preference, I think. I have already told Bitty that if it is a boy I refuse to name him Eric or Richard or any variation of the name."

Jack laughed. "I do not blame you. Do not name him Jack either."

"Oh, but I do love your name, Jack," said Larissa, which caused Jack to roll his eyes. Larissa laughed again and began to focus on the canvas in front of her. She had been working only a minute when the door burst open and a member of the guard, whose name Jack had yet to learn, barged in.

"Lord Commander," he said and then realized that the queen sat in the room as well. "Your majesty! I am sorry, I did not see you there." 

"Do not worry, my dear guard, and state your business," said Larissa.

"The prisoner is willing to speak," said the guard. 

"Is he?" Jack asked. "And what did he say, exactly?"

"I was not present during the interrogation, but I heard him relent from the hallway."

"Hmm. I shall let him stew a bit before I go to him. No one is to speak to him until I am ready."

"Yes, my Lord. Your majesty."

Jack nodded at the guard, who left the room. Once the door closed, Jack looked back at Larissa. "Continue, Larissa, and when we have reached a natural stopping point I will go see to our prisoner." 

Larissa's expression had turned hard; Jack did not blame her. Jack may have only been in the King's Tower a few months, but Scraps had been there many years. All of the staff knew and loved him. It made Jack worry how many more of the Spades could be among the staff without his knowledge. The eradication of these deviants was Jack's first task as Lord Commander. 

He and Larissa chatted for an hour before she agreed to part with him. She left the easel and her paints in the office and they left together. Jack gave her cheek a kiss at the door to the dungeon; she continued toward the throne room and he descended the stairs to the castle basement. He had not been inside the dungeon before, but apart from some storage, there was nothing else in the basement apart from it. 

Jack approached two guards who stood at the locked gate. They stood straighter and more attentive when they saw him.

"Lord Commander," they said in unison.

Jack nodded to each of them. "How fares our prisoner?" he asked.

"He has not said a word since he asked for you. He is in the final cell on the right."

Jack looked through the gate. The dungeon was not pretty, although he did not expect it to be. It was at least clean, although dark. There were no windows in the part of the castle, and the walls were only lit with flickering torches. Jack was allowed through the gate and ventured down the row of empty cells until he reached the end of the hallway, where another guard stood. The guard unlocked and opened the cell. Scraps sat in a corner, his arms wrapped around his legs.

"Sir Knight," said Scraps upon sight of him. "I will not speak to you. I asked for the Commander of the Guard."

"Fortunately for you," said Jack as he entered and knelt a considerable distance from the prisoner, "I have just yesterday been appointed by his royal majesty King Eric the First as Commander of the Royal Guard."

"You?" spat Scraps. "You are nothing but a whore."

"Language, my dear man," said Jack. "You will speak to me or you will endure your punishment indefinitely."

Scraps looked Jack in the eyes; he was much changed from the quiet man who assisted in the King's Tower, fixing doors and repairing chandeliers. Until the moment Jack overheard the conversation in the wardrobe master's office, he had never heard Scraps speak. It must have been how he was able to remain unnoticed for so long. There in the dungeon, Scraps was not the common servant, nor the cousin of the page, but instead a dirty, broken man wearing an uncomfortable shift and no shoes. 

Scraps let out a low growl and looked at the wall. "Fine."

"Speak. What was your role here?"

"I was to report on the activities of the tower, nothing more."

"What did you report? And to whom?"

"My reports went to Carlton. He sent them directly to the Ace."

"How? Are there other Spades in the castle?" Jack asked.

"No. It was just the two of us. The Spades are an exclusive, yet loyal, group of individuals. We all report to the Ace, as he gives us direction on how to move. We are able to send him communication at his residence, as he lives there with an alias."

"Did he give you direction to kill me?"

"Yes," said Scraps. "Once he learned of your identity and your position in the castle, he ordered your death. He did not wish his own identity to be known."

"That is too late. I know who he is, as does the king. Tell me, where is he?"

Scraps looked back at Jack and did not answer. Jack rose to his feet and watched as Scraps' eyes followed him up. "Now is not the time for loyalty. I will find him regardless of your cooperation, but what will happen to you will vary greatly based on the choices you make."

"You will find him in the city of Vegas, in the country of Nevada, to the west. Ask for Jeffrey of Troy; he lives with an attendant in a home within the city limits."

"Good," said Jack. He turned. 

"What will happen to me?" Scraps asked to Jack's back. "I must be granted leniency for my information." 

"You will," said Jack as he exited the stall; he did not look back, but he did nod to the guard. As Jack left the dungeon, he heard a plea, a shout, and then nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really like Scraps and I'm kind of sad I had to use him the way I did, but he was the only member of the Aces in the comic that made sense to insert into the King's Tower, so that's how it goes.


	14. Epilogue

Lord Jack dismounted his horse and ran. Bittle Castle had never seemed so big before, except perhaps for that day when he wished nothing more than to reach the King's Tower before an assassin. This was a different kind of urgency; in that moment he wished nothing more than to see the king again, for it had been weeks.

He pulled off his helmet along the way and dropped it to the ground; either he or a servant would pick it up at some point, and he cared not if it dented. There was no time for stopping. He ran up the stairs and to the large wooden doors, which he opened with a heave, then ran straight along the red carpet to the next set of wooden doors. The king would be there. It was not yet noon. He surely would be there.

Oliver stood in front of the doors and put up a hand. "Lord Commander, the king is in an audience with the Duke of Faber, you cannot —"

"The duke can wait," growled Jack and he pushed Oliver roughly out of the way with his heavy hand. His gauntlet hit Oliver's chest with a thud and Oliver let out a small ow as Jack shoved him to the side. He pulled open the door and stepped inside, his heart beating fast from adrenaline, exhaustion, and anticipation.

The king sat upon his throne, wearing his golden crown, his purple cape, and a golden doublet that went well with his pale brown trousers. In front of him stood the Duke of Faber, a man with whom Jack was well acquainted, and a man who would have to wait until Jack said hello to his love.

Bitty stood at once, his expression awe, his thin lips in a smile. The duke turned as well, but Jack had no eyes for him.

"Everyone out. Immediately."

Bitty's voice rang clear and true through the hall.

"But your majesty —" said the duke.

"It is nearly lunch; please make yourself comfortable in the dining hall and take in a fine meal. We will continue our audience at a later time."

The duke sputtered again, briefly, but then bowed and exited, shooting a displeased look at Jack as he passed. Jack did not look back, still staring at the king, who remained standing at his throne. 

"That order meant _everyone,_ " said Bitty to the room as a whole; the guards had not budged. "Out. Now."

The guards left with less resistance than the duke. Once the last man exited, Jack ran forward, as did Bitty. Bitty leapt into Jack's arms and kissed him deep. Jack felt his entire body fill with happiness; it had been so long since he held this man in his arms, and he felt as though the world had been dulled in the interim. Winter had passed and spring had arrived, but Jack still felt a chill in his bones each moment he was not with Bitty.

"I love you," whispered Bitty when he finally let go.

"And I you," said Jack. He made no attempt to place Bitty on the ground.

"Did you succeed?"

Jack nodded. "He is dead."

Bitty put his face in Jack's neck. "I worried for you every day."

Jack gently kissed Bitty's head. "I missed you every day. I thought of you every day. Tell me at once — what of the queen? Has she —"

"Soon," said Bitty as he raised his head. "Justin estimates another two weeks."

"Good, I did not miss it," said Jack. 

"You returned just in time." Jack leaned forward to kiss Bitty again, but Bitty pulled back. "The guards will not want to leave us for long, and I fear the duke will insist on continuing his audience over lunch. I want to be alone with you. I do not want to be disturbed."

"The river," Jack said. "We can ride to the river."

"Yes," said Bitty. "Yes, please."

***

Jack dismounted from Chestnut and tied her loosely to a post; after she wandered off into the forest on the journey out of Samwell, Jack had learned his lesson when it came to letting her roam free. She never liked being secured, but she would have to learn to live with it, as he wasn't in the mood to ruin his post-coital bliss by having to run naked into the woods to find her. He pet down her snout before he turned to Bitty.

Bitty waited until he held Jack's attention to dismount from Blackberry. Jack smiled as Bitty, graceful as wind, lifted his leg, swung it over Blackberry's back, and lowered it to the ground. Jack took a peek between Bitty's legs before the other foot hit the ground as well. Bitty knew Jack was watching. 

Jack took Blackberry's reins from Bitty and secured him to the post as well. When he turned, Bitty was already unbuttoning his doublet. Jack watched, his arousal growing with each button unfastened with Bitty's dexterous fingers. Bitty looked right back at him, never breaking contact, as he removed his intricately decorated vest and tossed it right onto the dirt path; Carlton, were he still alive, would have fainted had he seen the disregard for such a vestment, but that only made Jack happier.

"Are you going to just stand there and watch me take all my clothes off?" Bitty asked as he began to untuck his linen shirt from his trousers.

"Yes," said Jack.

"That's not very fair."

"I have not seen you in weeks, my love. I wish to look at you."

"Hmph," said Bitty. "You say that as though I have not suffered the same affliction." He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into the dirt as well. Jack sighed deeply; Bitty's tight torso appeared and his medallion glistened in the sunlight.

Bitty kicked off his boots next, first the left and then the right, before he unlaced his trousers and hiked them down. To Jack's displeasure, he wore linen breeches. He usually didn't, but Jack supposed he had not expected Jack to arrive. 

It was not until Bitty stood completely naked that Jack began to remove his own clothes. He, unfortunately, had quite a bit more. Bitty watched, one hand lazily stroking his erection, as Jack disrobed fully; the armor took the longest to remove. Jack took slightly more care of his, tossing his clothing into the grass rather than the dirt. Once naked he approached Bitty and placed his hand on the side of Bitty's face.

"I love you," Jack whispered.

Bitty smiled and turned his head to kiss Jack's hand. "I love you, my sweet," he replied, "and while I appreciate the sentiment, I cannot wait a moment longer."

Jack laughed and kissed Bitty hard. Bitty wrapped his arms around Jack's neck and pulled him down into the grass. Jack fell without hesitation, but clutched the bottle of oil in his hand so as not to break it upon the ground. Bitty spread his legs at once and Jack oiled his fingers and wasted no time to begin to prod at Bitty's hole. 

"Hurry up, I want you," said Bitty.

Jack did not make Bitty wait long. He climbed atop Bitty, took hold of himself, and slipped in. Bitty paused, moaning hard and loud as Jack carefully inserted himself. Once in, Jack looked into Bitty's eyes and started thrusting.

"Fuck," Bitty moaned, his forehead pressed against Jack's. "Fuck, Jack, I've always wanted to do this here."

"Me too," said Jack, grabbing Bitty's legs for stability as he thrust into him. Bitty snaked a hand between their bodies and took hold of himself, rubbing wildly. Neither of them were in the mood for a long fuck, instead searching for pleasure as quickly as possible. Bitty was the first to climax; Jack felt him spurt between them. Jack thrust harder and faster, and within a minute he finished as well, his cock flush in Bitty, filling him up.

"Lord," said Bitty and he pressed his head into Jack's shoulder. "Lord, I missed you so much."

Jack carefully pulled out and Bitty snuggled up to Jack from the side, his head on Jack's chest, their legs intertwined. Both of them were still breathing hard, attempting to regulate after an intense few minutes. Jack rested one arm on Bitty's back and the other under his head as he looked up into the sky. 

It was a beautiful day; the clouds were white and fluffy, the wind slowly carrying them across the blue sky. It was the first day where they could be comfortable outside without clothes. It would have been a good day to wade in the river itself, but Jack knew they would need to return to the castle soon. 

"How is your knee after all that?" Bitty asked after a long, peaceful silence.

Jack bent his knee to test it; a second scar lined the first, thinner than the other but just as red and ugly. While a bit stiff, there was no pain.

"It's quite good," said Jack. "I think I need to stretch it when we get back, but otherwise I cannot complain. It was a long ride home. It was a long ride there."

"Did it take you long to find him?" Bitty asked.

"No," said Jack, and he thought back at the last few weeks. It had only taken two days to get information out of Scraps, but the delay was on Jack. Despite his new position as Commander of the Royal Guard, he insisted on seeking out the Ace alone. While Bitty agreed, Jack was in no state to travel across the country on horseback. A second surgery and months in a wheeled chair improved his knee tremendously, and then, once winter ended, Jack set out upon his horse to do what he should have done years before.

"Good," said Bitty. "You must tell me the tale when we have time."

"It is less exciting than the dragon," said Jack.

Bitty lay his head on Jack's chest again, and Jack sighed. They remained naked, but both of them were comfortable lying there in the open, staring at the sky and listening to the breeze in the forest behind them. Chestnut and Blackberry shifted and neighed occasionally, but apart from that it was quiet. Jack could stay there all day. It would be wonderful to watch the sunset from this view, as they would be able to see it disappear over the horizon to the west. He knew his stomach would rumble before long, and even worse, he knew he had work awaiting him in the castle.

Bitty sat up, looking down at Jack with admiration. He studied Jack's face and Jack did the same; it had not changed, but it was something he had missed in his time away. "Jack," Bitty whispered. "Do not tell your guard you are back. Stay the day with me."

"I will do whatever you command," said Jack.

"I command you to spend the day with me, my love," said Bitty, and he rested his head on Jack's chest. "Perhaps you can read to me again. I must admit I've read _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ more than once in your absence, but I miss hearing the verse in your scruffy, low voice."

"I think it will only be better without my scruffy, low voice. I doubt I do Titania or Helena justice."

"Oh how could you not?" Bitty sat up and lowered his voice significantly, "My Oberon! What visions have I seen! Methought I was enamored of an ass!'"

Bitty erupted into laughter while Jack pouted. "I do not sound like that."

Bitty shuffled so he lay atop Jack, his knees beside Jack's hips and their faces close together. "I suppose not," he said. "But I am sure that I am enamored of an ass." Bitty kissed Jack and rolled them so Jack was on top and Bitty could lower his hands to Jack's backside. "I have one more command for you, Lord Jack."

"What is it, your majesty?"

"Never leave me again."

Jack nodded resolutely and delicately touched Bitty's cheek with his fingers. "I never will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Feel free to stop by [my tumblr](https://foryouandbits.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


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